No World For Heroes
by Jord
Summary: COMPLETE My take on the Exile's life, and Atton's, before the Mandalorian Wars. Their adventures, seemingly isolated, knot together to lead to familiar events in the game.
1. Chapter 1

**No World For Heroes**

Bao-Dur ran down the hallway as best he could. The ship tilted to one side, metal groaning and creaking with protest. His hand reflexively held itself up against the wall of the ship, steadying the body it was attached to. The Zabrak glanced up to see a squad of Republic soldiers cross an intersecting hallway, boots clunking on metal, guns at the ready but with fear on their faces.

_Guns'll do no good here_, though Bao-Dur. _What you need is a damned Star-Class fighter_. He doubted that laser fire from a regular hand-held blaster would even graze the heavily armoured hull of a Mandalorian craft. A wave of dizziness swept him and he closed his eyes momentarily. _Blasters at the ready? _Oh lord, had he been blind._ The squad wasn't going to shoot at fighters outside the ship. They had been boarded_.

That's why the ship had angled itself – tractor beams. He broke out into a flat run to his cabin on the third deck.

On reaching it, he threw himself in and hit his hand on the door panel, slamming the door shut. Wouldn't keep him hidden from the enemy for long, but gave him just enough time to do what he needed to do.

He scrambled under his bunk, hands groping fervently for something. Pulling what he wanted out, he happened to catch a glimpse of himself in a mirror. Unrecognizable to himself, he had to pull his gaze away quickly to stop his thoughts from following yet another dark path. Blood that had poured from one of his ears and his nose had now caked and crusted onto his face. His left arm was almost mangled – he had been oblivious to the pain until now.

The sonic charges from the Mandalorian war-crafts had lived up to their nasty reputations, alright. Fortunately for the Republic ship, the charges had only managed to damage the anti-freezer compartment sector on the ship. A relatively minor assault considering. Unfortunately for Bao-Dur, he was the tech assigned to handle repairs in that area when the charges went off.

But there was no logic in admitting defeat just yet. Trying heroically to tune out the steady throb of pain in his arm, Bao-Dur turned on the vid-comm he had fished out from under his bunk and punched in some numbers.

The screen flashed to life with a sharp crackle of static, and a Republic commander, no, lieutenant, materialized.

"I have – who the hell are you?" ejaculated the lieutenant incredulously.

"I need to speak with the General." spoke Bao-Dur. He was surprised. His voice sounded more fearful than he had imagined he felt.

"This is a private emergency line, and we are waiting to hear back from – "

Bao-Dur cut him off. "No time. The _Discovery_ is taking some heavy fire. We're near Dantooine, I can't give you my exact coordinates," he paused, out of breath, before continuing, "so you'd better trace 'em from this comm."

A beat. It looked as if the Republic Leiutenant was contemplating the possibility of a hoax versus the legitimacy of this message. He seemed to favor the latter after a careful study of Bao-Dur's blood-stained visage.

"I'm on the trace." He punched in something on his console and shook his head in protest at Bao-Dur. "Sector J-14, area 6538-82? We patrolled the region with a large radius! And the war is over! Mandalore himself has given us his word and has acknowledged defeat!"

Bao-Dur's face scrunched up, and he growled angrily at the screen. "All I know is that these are damned Mandalorian crafts. Either he's pulled a fast one over you and is stalling for time, or a lunatic group of his own have seceded and are now trying to single-handedly bring down Republic ships. Starting with this one."

"But it's just not possible..." insisted the lieutenant, now trying to convince himself more than the frustrated Bao-Dur.

"How's this for "possible", lieutenant? In less than an hour, the Mandalorians will have control of the Discovery, and with it, its weapons and thermo-bombs. Then I think it's _possible_ that they can make short work of Coruscant, and quite easily, turn the tide of this war. So if it's _possible_ for you, send for immediate reinforcements before we begin this futile debate on the limits of damned logic!"

The lieutenant's eyes contained comprehension of the situation and the barest flicker of guilt. "With control of the _Discovery_, they could easily slip through our security blockades...oh, heavens..." The implications hit him hard.

"I need to speak with General Mataki. I know you have the immediate means to contact her. _Please_. We're being boarded – I don't have much time."

"Right. I'm transferring you to her private comm." He looked hard into Bao-Dur's eyes, as if trying to take in as much information as he could in as short a time as possible. "Thank you, soldier. Take care." The screen flickered into a stream of static.

_I'm no damned soldier_, thought Bao-Dur. _I'm just a tech. I should be in my work-shop at home right now, improving some of the new droid models. If I had a home_, he thought bitterly. _It's because of the Mandalorians that I'm here. It's because of them that I hate_.

A voice emerged from the vid-comm. "Yes?"

Bao-Dur stared at the screen, momentarily mute. Here she was, Revan's own appointed General. It was her fleet that had defeated Mandalore's. Hers that had amassed the largest Mandalorian body count amongst Revan's army.

"General Mataki, you don't remember me...but we served on the _Discovery_ together several months ago – near Onderon." _You commanded_, he thought. _I just fixed things_.

"Bao-Dur."

She remembered his name! He nodded. "We're being boarded, General. I...we may not last much longer. They take no prisoners in this game we play."

"Lieutenant Jemmel informed me. He assures me that he is sending a military fleet your way. However," she paused, avoiding eye contact. "I fear that they may not arrive in time."

Bao-Dur was puzzled. The Republic reinforcements would no doubt be able to overpower a small mass of Mandalorians. If worse came to the worst, they could blow up the _Discovery_ before it had a chance to cause serious damage to any planetary systems. Realization soon dawned on him. She wasn't talking about the threat the Discovery posed under new leadership, she was addressing the almost certain fact that he – including many others – may not survive this surprise onslaught.

He may die. Here, now.

"Why did you contact me?" she asked, without any sign of authority in her voice. She sounded like a child who had just been picked for an important round of box-ball in a tournament event by far-superior peers.

He was slightly taken aback. This was not the General he knew. "I...I don't quite know," he admitted. "Maybe it's because you give credibility to this entire mess. You add humanity to it. It's not something that you enjoy doing General, I know that, despite all the tales to the contrary."

General Mataki smiled sadly. "You're getting philosophical on me, Bao-Dur."

"And why shouldn't I? This is likely the most sane conversation I have had in my entire life. And it's even more fitting that we converse in this way before I die."

She did not contradict him, but continued talking. "People die in war. The rules are that whoever has the lowest body count wins. So I have to be prepared to deal out death to my adversaries. There can be no allowances for weakness in this war we fight, because it is this same weakness that the Mandalorians have chosen to exploit. It's simple."

"Except it isn't!" Bao-Dur almost shouted. "I've seen other Jedi. They grow stronger, more powerful with each life they take. And they bask in this power. You feel this power, too. I know this. But instead of fueling you, it consumes you. And this is what gives you your humanity. Your weakness is your strength."

For a moment, it looked as if a wave of pain washed over General Mataki, and she rubbed her forehead with her hand. "Then you are the only one who believes this is so. Bao-Dur, I can only –"

She was abruptly cut off by a sharp fizz and loud bang coming from Bao-Dur's end of the vid comm. Smoke filled the room, and for a second Bao-Dur's outline looked ghostly – a mere silhouette of a conjured being.

"Bao-Dur!" she shouted into the comm. "Are you..." her words faltered, her diminished will failing along with her words.

Another life gone. Another weakness to her heart.

* * *

"Who was that?" said the man from the back of the ship. 

General Elori Mataki turned around in the jump seat of the ship and looked at the man, her eyes somewhat glazed.

"General?" the pilot asked again.

"The _Discovery_'s being boarded." Her voice sounded flat, dull.

"By who?"

"Disbanded Mandalorians. Mandalore himself informed Revan about this. That some of his clan did not believe in surrender. He said...he said he could not be held accountable for the acts of those outside his clan. Beyond his jurisdiction, he said." She still clasped the vid-comm tightly, unaware that she was doing so.

"Do you believe this is true? Do you sense it?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Believe, yes. Sense, no."

"What difference does that make?"

General Mataki remained silent. _It made all the difference in the world_, she thought to herself as she put down the vid-comm.

* * *

As she readied herself to step outside the small craft, Mataki could not help but ponder Bao-Dur's words. She understood them alright, but could not subscribe to them. What strength lies in being fallible? In being weak? Nothing. That's what the war had taught her. She sighed, frustrated at the fact that it was this war that she now customarily turned to for pontifications and guidance. Not her Jedi knowledge. 

Trying to justify her reasoning, she theorized that the war had given her many experiences that the Jedi teachings could not. _Like the experience of the dark side?_ said a small but nagging voice. Shoving the disturbing thought to one side, she tried to focus on other immediate feelings.

The war had undeniably given her a much more prominent opportunity to test out her command of the Force. In killing an increasing number of Mandalorian troops, in cutting her lightsaber through their armour and flesh, she honed her gift, sharpened it. Where once she could take on only five Mandalorians on her own, she could now bring down about fifteen.

And she had become quite the strategist. She now knew how to effectively manipulate a poor situation, reversing the tables in favor of her side. And such a reversal almost always meant more Mandalorian lives. More bodies, more faces that wore death masks...

_Stop it_.

No more fragility. No more shortcomings_. But wasn't it weakness that stayed you on this path_? _Wasn't it frailty that influenced your decision to fight the Mandalorians_? _You couldn't stand by and serve those innocents who died with inaction. Their pain caused you pain. You felt it because of your vulnerabilities. You felt it because you were weak_.

Bao-Dur...

_The killing – the needless slaughter of all these people! Who had done nothing to destroy the Mandalorian world! Why did they deserve such violence? Not just the men either. The women, and the children. Not only the fortunate, but the downtrodden as well. Their murderers had to be stopped. Then the death would stop too, followed by an end to this pain_.

Only now that the war had come to a close, she still felt pain. And it stung a thousand-fold more than it had before.

* * *

Emerging from the exit of the craft, Mataki looked grimly at her surroundings.

Malachor V was a death world. Dark storms more attune to evil than to meteorological phenomena plastered the sky. Its jagged rocks lit up like sharp fangs every time lightning flashed across the sky. Phosphorescent fungi grew in moist niches of these rocks, casting an unnerving green glow in the limited light.

Mataki shook her head slowly in disbelief. _I must be mad, coming back here_, she thought. _Completely insane_.

Just over two months ago, she had fought the Mandalorians here on Malachor. The last battle – the decisive one that had ended the war. It was like no other war zone she had ever seen. The terrain had made it so easy for the Mandalorians to hide, ambush their enemies and set mines in.

She and her unit had spent many a sleepless night keeping watch for the slightest form, shadow, or even smell of the enemy. It stretched their nerves close to breaking point, when they could only be relieved and released by the death of their adversaries. Other units would occasionally call in, but more often for help than for regulation updates of the current situation. She had heard many soldiers scream for help with their voices – no words – their voices sometimes tinny and unreal on the comm-links.

One commander, she recalled his name only now, Commander Loe, had managed to reach her while in mid-battle. His unit had stepped into some godforsaken catacombs _strewn_ with booby-traps. When six of his ten men had fallen, Mandalorians, wearing stealth units, had seized this opportunity to take three more of his men down, leaving him huddled tightly in a nook, hiding, praying for life.

She had repeatedly asked him for his position, but he couldn't respond. Mataki believed that the receiving end of his comm-link was malfunctioning. She couldn't, therefore, conduct a reliable trace and could only hear the man's heavy breathing and frightened whispers as she frantically search for his whereabouts. Wandering around with two other soldiers from her unit looking for this man was illogical; it could prove to be a huge waste of manpower if they all died for someone who had fewer odds of surviving regardless.

And die he did. While pleading for his life. She heard him beg over the comm-link, his emotion sounding surreal. And what made it worse is that there was no scream, no yell, from his mouth before he was killed. Just a muffled _whump_ and then silence. She thought the last word he said was "don't".

She felt a hand on her shoulder suddenly, and was startled out of her reverie.

"We should get going. Get this over with."

Her mind unclouded. "Hix. _No_. Take the craft and leave the fighter." She turned to face the pilot, staring him fixedly in the eyes. "You're done here. Your service to the Republic is over – this is personal business."

Hix's brows furrowed and he shook his head determinedly. "In my profession, "business" doesn't take place on a death hole like this. Personal or professional. There's some other agenda here."

Mataki sighed but refused to relent. "If any Mandalorians were here, we would have seen some kind of electrical abnormality in orbit. They can't breathe without their damned stealth generators."

"I'm not talking about the cursed Mandalorians. I'm talking about Revan. Why not Coruscant? Why couldn't he meet you there?"

"He has rejected the Jedi Order. They will not have him back." she answered, matter-of-factly.

"That's my point, General." His eyes looked pained and tired. "All my life, I've wanted to be a Jedi. I've even willed my blood to have a higher midichlorian count when I was younger. Why? Because the Jedi way is that of fairness, honor, integrity. The light side of the Force binds all living things, connects them. But here," he frowned, "here is hardly the place a Jedi would choose for two friends to reunite after a glorious victory. And even if this were a rendezvous for classified information exchange...I could think of a million better places. You can _taste_ the death here."

"I know," she replied softly. And then more darkly, "You think I can't feel it?"

"Then why do you go?" he asked, confused.

The darkness melted, gaving way to weariness. "To look for answers, Hix. To look for answers."

* * *

Two long hours later, the pair chugged their way down some steep terrain, trying to avoid slipping down a pseudo-demure looking rock. Mataki had fervently tried to convince Hix to return to home base on Alderaan, but he was adamant that he remain at her side. 

She had known Hix for six months now; he served as one of the pilots on three missions with her. He was a simple-minded fellow, but with a good heart. His thoughts usually dwelled on the immediate future, and gave little time to contemplating consequences. He trusted instinct even more than she did, she thought rather sheepishly. And not being Force-sensitive, it proved to be a downfall for him on most occasions.

She hoped this wouldn't be one of those times.

"There it is...the Core." she muttered, as they came to a ledge. They stood on its edge, looking down into a well formed small valley, the floor of which contrasted strikingly from the texture of Malachor's terrain.

She pointed with her finger and a dark gaping hole at the foot of the valley, "And there's the front door."

Hix swallowed in nervousness. "There? We have to go in there?"

She turned to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Go back. You have come with me this far, and I am grateful for it. I told you that you no longer serve the Republic. I have the authority to release you from my command. Go home, Xavier – to your family. Be a free man. Don't let nightmares like this tie you down."

His jaw tightened. "I have no family." And then, on Mataki's shocked face he admitted, "Yes, my wife and son succumbed to their injuries weeks before the Mandalorians were defeated. There's nothing for me now. I serve the Republic. And my loyalty lies with it, and withthose who enforce its laws."

Mataki's unrest grew. "But you should not be tied to this...to this," she mumbled, the rest of her words growing incoherent. "You're a free man. I don't understand why you deny yourself freedom when it's set on a platter before you!"

"Maybe serving you – serving the Republic – maybe that's my concept of freedom." He shrugged, not allowing her to discuss the matter further.

Before they climbed down, however, Mataki spoke. "I can't force you against your own will...but I will tell you. Whatever I do, or don't do in there...I will not be held responsible for. I...I don't think I will have the strength to save us both."

Hix looked at her briefly, and then smiled. "We'll see."

* * *

The walls inside the tomb-like hallway were smooth, and intricate designs carved into them. _Almost beautiful, if you subscribed to morbidity_, she thought. There were other smaller corridors, poorly lit, that branched out from the main one. She followed thebigger hallway and was lead into a huge circular room, lit by hidden lamps that cast a red glow on her surroundings. 

She spoke to Hix, her back turned to him. "Wait outside."

"But – "

"_Do it_." Her voice was different now. More commanding than it had ever been.

She felt him walk away, almost dejectedly. No time to worry about his injured pride. She couldn't dwell on others' feelings any more. No good came of it during the war, and she was certain no good would come of it now.

"Precisely my sentiments." said another male voice from the end of the room.

She hadn't heard that voice in person since the beginning of the Mandalorian wars. And even now, hearing it, she was startled. There was such formidable conviction in it! Clarity. It made everything make sense.

"Revan." she whispered.

He emerged from the shadows, his face covered by a steel mask, his head hooded and a dark cape flowing from his neck. He seemed taller now than she had last remembered him. And definitely more powerful. But it didn't frighten her.

"Elori. I know you're not afraid...and you have absolutely no reason to be. I am the same friend you knew since our Padawan days. And I come to you now, in the same way I came to you then, to ask for your help."

"Not quite the same..." ventured Mataki.

Revan shrugged. A curiously normal gesture for one so impressive. That was what had drawn her to him and his beliefs before the war. He could wield the Force so skillfully, better than most – definitely better than herself – and yet be so humble. He carried more authority on his shoulders yet he could reduce himself with ease and grace to menial tasks if the need arose.

"You think so?" he responded.

Mataki was certain he was smiling behind that mask. But as to what the nature of the smile was, she could not tell. And the first feelings of uneasiness began to stir within her.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is that we have won this war. We seized the reigns of opportunity to do what was right, and we were rewarded. How do you feel?"

"Your question...it holds a multitude of answers." she replied.

"Ah yes, rather simple-minded. I agree." he looked past her when she said this. "Let me pose it to you a different way then. Do you feel like we did the right thing? Do you feel liberated?"

_No_. "Should I?"

"I can't tell you how to feel. But I can tell you how I do. I'm a new man, Elori. The Jedi teachings, the ancient lore...it was like a claustrophobic cave. This – letting my heart do the thinking – it's essential for us. As sentient beings, we need this to survive. We need to act on our feelings."

"Revan. Surely you're not as foolish as to think that I am not aware of where this is going...?"

"I've always enjoyed being in your presence. You're direct and to the point. Which is why I decided to take that tactic with you."

"You're asking me to join you. To turn." The steady sound of her voice did nothing to unmask the growing feelings of worry curling its way around her heart. So fast. This was happening so fast! She was a fool not to foresee this.

"No, I'm asking you to forsake the Jedi teachings. To embrace more knowledge – not one fragment of it. Why read one paragraph of a book when the entire volume is available to you? Right at your feet?"

"I am not Sith."

Revan cocked his head to one side. "Neither am I. Would the actions of the Sith have defended the people threatened by the Mandalorians?"

Her mind jogged around in circles. "Maybe the intent of your actions have changed direction,"

"I disagree. What I feel now is an exponential growth of exactly what I felt before we began this war. I am not bound to a decomposing belief. The Republic, however, is. Why? Because the Reublic is a static body, fueled by an even more static soul – the Jedi Order. Stagnant. Dormant. Immobile. You get the gist of what I'm saying. It's _inevitable_ that some other faction should arise on seeing the Republic's weakened state, and take advantage of this situation. We cannot allow that to happen. We _must _restore order."

Mataki felt the tug of his words, but strangely enough, not as strongly as before. What bridged the gap between them, she wondered? "I have served, Revan. This war – I pray that it is the last I fight,"

"That's exactly my point!" he gestured emphatically with his finger. "If we take a hold of the Republic, this _will_ be the last war you've fought."

"And how do you propose to take a hold of the Republic?" she was tired again. Weary. The will toargue againsthis logic was slackening. She should have anticipated this, she told herself once more. Revan was undeniably a brilliant strategist. In thought, actions, and words.

"We are heroes. The light shines on those who defied the stubbornness of the Council to end bloodshed. The Republic see us as their saviours, and in truth, we are. If we lead the Republic, we will keep our word that we shall maintain peace. And they will be grateful for it."

Mataki's head grew heavy. She clutched it suddenly. "But...Revan, there's _so much death_. We can't buy power with all this blood. Something will give."

"That's your weakness talking. Who are _you_? Where's the mighty General Mataki who helped lead us to victory?"

Her head began to throb ever so slightly. She looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "I have lost her."

"How?" he sounded surprised for the first time in their somewhat one-sided conversation.

"I think I know now." With that, Mataki's knees buckled and she sank to the ground. The pain was growing steadily higher. She sat, almost in a kneeling position, arms hanging listlessly by her sidelooking up at him. This dark thing that was once her friend. "All those people I've killed...all those people the Mandalorians killed. Vicious, uh…"The pain was almost blinding now. She shut her eyes tight, and vivid images of the dead, the dying, the mutilated, the tortured crashed like violent waves into her head. "...Cycle."

She opened her eyes and stared at her hands. She was crying now. Tears streaming down in a seemingly endless flow. She seemed unaware of it. She heldher hands up to her face. "There's so much blood on them...too much,"

Revan walked around her in a circle slowly, like a jungle cat prowling some invisible perimeter, letting nothing out alive. "Then you see that you have no choice..."

"_No. More. Death_." she pleaded. "No...lives. No more. I can take no more."

"Then I will. On your behalf, old friend." With that he stretched out his hand and drew something from the shadows and into the red light.

Out of the corner of her blurred vision, she saw Hix, suspended in mid-air. By his throat.

_No!_ cried out a voice inside of her.

"Strike me, Elori. Hate me, and I will let him go. He's innocent. If you have a quarrel, it is with me. Not him. Spare him."

_Not this way_, said the voice. _There are so many ways to exploit your weaknesses. And there are right times to give in, and wrong times_.

"If you fight to save the innocent, then prove it! Do not let one more die on account of your failings! Grasp your true destiny and rise again!" spoke Revan. His words seem to come from inside her head.

She managed to look at Hix, in the eyes, and read the fear clearly. It strengthened her resolve to hate Revan. To hate the Republic. To hate the vulnerable for being just so. But there was also something else.

"Save...us, both," croaked Hix suddenly.

Elori Mataki blinked. _How?_ She couldn't fight Revan in the true sense of the word. It was a stalemate. There was no choice. No other option.

"Save...possible...even in death," gasped Hix valiantly.

Revan tightened his grip considerably. "Choose quickly." he growled.

A million neurons fired off in Mataki's head at once. Strength varies. To Bao-Dur humanity and empathy was strength. To Revan, it meant just the opposite. But what did it mean to her? Bao-Dur meant something to her, just as Hix did at this very moment. Her heart was with them. _Choose quickly_, came an echo amidst the pain.

Staring at Hix's immobilized form, she saw his thumb flick across something egg-shaped. It took a moment for her to register. His eyes darted towards the exit and towards the plasma grenade. He was telling her to run. It was possible to be saved even through his death. If it came the right way, of course.

Hix slid his thumb under the pin, and pulled. Revan let his grip slack and Hix thudded to the floor.

_My heart is with you_, she thought as she darted out the exit.

* * *

Elori had just stepped into the hallway when the explosion went off. The impact threw her forward violently, face down- she had a vague mental image of a large hand shoving her to safety, and she skidded across the marble floor. Soon coming to a halt, she raised her head. Was it done? Was it over? She closed her eyes and attempted to stretch out with her feelings...and felt nothing. Dead, then. But not only could she not sense the life of Hix or Revan, but she could not feel stench of Malachor, as she had felt many times before. 

Before she could contemplate anymore, Mataki felt a sharp blinding pain in her right arm. Grudgingly looking at it, she saw a solid-sized rock had fallen, followed by a series of smaller ones, falling down in cascades. _Wha...?_ The roof was caving in.

She pushed herself to rise– feeling her weight strongly now – and ran out the entrance.

She half-limped and half-ran through Malachor V's jagged pathways. Her right arm was almost certain broken and she had several cuts on her head from falling debris from the explosion. Everything ached. It was so much more difficult to find her way back to the craft. She thought she had lost a large percentage of her sight, but that was not the case as she could see clearly around her.

It didn't matter now. Hix had died to give her this freedom. She'd be damned if she threw it away for something as ridiculous as a small worry.

She staggered to the cockpit, clutching her side. Strapping herself in, she exhaled slowly and set the craft to take off automatically. Leaning her head against the seat, she closed her eyes and slept.


	2. Chapter 2

A swamp bat flapped its wings after its long nap and opened its jaws wide in a toothy yawn. It flexed the muscles on its feet, raising each individual claw carefully so as to not lose its grip on the branch. After several moments, it looked around and tilted its head to one side, emitting a low, resonating rumble. The sound spread outwards, bouncing off objects allowing the bat to gauge its position relative to objects around it. It also allowed him to hunt.

With another heavier flap of his wings, it rose ominously from the willow tree and towards the stagnant marshland. It passed noiselessly over several other trees, some mangroves, some willow and on the odd occasion, beech as well. The night was always as it had been, cloudy, but not pitch black. The light of the planet's moon reflected off the low hanging clouds and illuminated the land with a soft, if not slightly eerie, glow.

The bat tilted to one side as it sensed the nearness of the marsh and glided down lower to its familiar hunting grounds. It was so low now that it could almost touch the thick viscous liquid that the marsh was comprised of. It made its low frequency rumble again, and was silent again, anticipating the movement of its possible prey. The sound bounced off something alive, and the bat pricked up its ears in attention. It was not a familiar resonance, but since it was hungry, this could warrant some cautious investigation.

The movement appeared to be coming from the banks of the marsh, behind an especially thick clump of reeds. The marsh was known to contain some of the swamp bat's natural predators, but not in shallow waters, so the creature was instinctively less heedful.

That was to be its downfall.

As it swerved behind the reeds, a metallic object – glinting momentarily in the light of the moon – came down upon the bat's head with a resounding clang.

It was dead before it could realize it.

From behind the reeds, a short, shriveled gnome-like creature emerged, puffing and panting, but with a shrewd grin on its face. In one hand it held a large cooking pan, and in the other, the lifeless body of the swamp bat. It cackled almost maniacally as it hobbled up the muddy slope of the bank.

The robes that clothed the creature were either brown or stained, but it could not be denied that they were old and weathered, like the creature's home.

The warm glow of a lamp and a fire emanated from the windows of the small mud hut, giving it a contrast from the cold, wet, humidity of the landscape outside. The creature pushed the door open with its foot and walked inside, wiping its feet carefully on a hairy rug – no doubt hide from yet another animal it had killed. It walked towards the fireplace and flung the bat into a large stewing pot, bubbling with water and a strange aroma. Setting down the pan on a wobbly wooden table, it hobbled over to its bed.

The form of a human figure could be traced through the outlines of the blanket. The creature gently placed a hand on the figure's shoulder – its back was turned – and the figure rolled over, eyes slowly opening.

"Get up, you must. Indulge in self-pity, you must not."

Mataki stared up at the ceiling. Her wounds no longer pained her as much. But her inner wounds...now that was another story. She forced the festering thoughts away and turned to look at her friend.

"Stare at me, only can you do! Eaten nothing for three days!" The creature's mouth furrowed into a crinkly frown and stuck one her three fingers towards the direction of the fireplace. "Brought you a delicacy, I have. To refuse is to insult."

_It must be swamp bat_, thought Mataki miserably. _The old woman's favourite stew_. She had avoided such cuisine for as long as she had known the grey gnome, but knew it was inevitable that it would one day be forced down her throat.

Well, she thought, there are worse punishments she had swallowed.

With that, she raised herself up into a sitting position with a grunt.

"Careful...careful you must be. Broken bones, mend do they not with sheer will!"

"Hnnh." grimaced Mataki in acknowledgement.

The gnome's pointy ears wiggled with pleasure at this new achievement. Thrilled with her accomplishment at having gotten her human friend to rise up – if slightly, even – from the solace of her bed, she quickened her pace towards the fire where the stew was cooking ominously. She grabbed an over-sized soup-spoon from a table and scooped not one, but four, helpings into a large bowl.

Mataki couldn't help but notice what a large, generous portion was hers to consume. "Eat later," she muttered in vain.

The aged woman shoved the warm bowl onto Mataki's lap in response and sat down with resolute movement on a stool next to the bed, not taking her eyes off her friend.

Mataki sighed in resignation. And dunked her spoon into the bowl – deliberately avoiding looking at what she had scooped up – and stuck it in her mouth. With an effort, she quickly swallowed the food, and gave the gnome a sour, sarcastic grin. _Happy now?_ the smile conveyed.

The gnome said nothing, but the movement of her ears expressed her approval. She watched serenely as her patient finished all that was in her bowl before speaking.

"How feel you?" she asked.

Mataki set the empty bowl down on the floor and remained quiet.

"Feed your stomach you have, at least...if not your soul."

She leaned her bruised body up against the wall of the hut and gave a barely perceptible nod.

"Small steps to recovery. Many ingredients there are – like in stew. Time is one of them. That, we have. Patience, the other is. That too, we have. Love too, flavours our recipe...and of that ingredient, plenty do I have." With that, the creature placed a hand gently on the arm of her friend. "But to mend completely, your help I need."

Mataki closed her eyes, not withdrawing her arm, but not quite acknowledging the touch either.

"Sense great pain in you, I did – since you came. But not normal, is this pain. Like molten rock does it bubble beneath the surface. Sweeping upwards, and pushed back down again. Not for long will it be under your control."

Mataki raised her eyes to meet the old woman's and at that very moment, the creature saw something terrible, some old forgotten pain, and looked away immediately, holding her breath. "Killed many, you have." She sucked in air. "To convert you, they have tried...but it went wrong. A twisted version of a human you have become. Lying motionless on the line are you – where neither side takes claim to your beliefs."

_Then let it be so_, thought Elori.

"Great sadness in you, I sense. But room to heal also. Speak, good friend. Tell old Yura your woes."

Elori's lips parted but no sound came out.

"If speak you will not. Then I will for you." Yura shifted her body into a more comfortable position on the stool before continuing. "Seen you not, I have since you left for Dxun. Changed you were, then, but not as much as you are now. Troubles me this does. For the initial change took years. But this subsequent one – mere days. Makes me wonder what, or who, to you did this. Someone of great importance, eh?"

She had Mataki's full attention now.

"The Jedi Council I know it not to be. For as arrogant as they sometimes are, punishment like this do they not serve. Then my mind wanders in the direction of the Sith, it does. But have their twisted soul, you do not."

"So what is it then?" spoke Mataki in a low voice. It sounded hoarse and bitter.

"If knew that, I did, then help you, I could." Yura's eyes were less intense, their sparkle had greatly diminished.

"What have I become, Yura?" whispered Elori. "I'm not Sith, and I'm certainly no Jedi. So where do I lie?"

"Thought your loyalties lay with the Republic, you did. The reason for entering the war were the murdered people. So save many, you did, and turned the tide of the war."

Elori's eyes looked back listlessly. W_here was this going?_ Unlike she did with Revan, she could not seem to predict the old woman's line of thought. She did not want to talk anymore, words seemed too redundant at the present. And anyway, she was aware of all of this. She had employed it constantly to justify her reasons for joining the war and to appease her conscience. Lord Revan and his invaluable and indomitable General Mataki had lead the Republic down a blood-soaked road to victory. Hurrah.

"History now."

"But history repeats itself, it does!" Yura stabbed an emphatic finger in the air. "Have it, I think I do. _Do unto murderers what they do unto the innocent_. Told me this, someone did. Thought him wise, I did. But foolish does this sound to me now."

_Vicious cycle_, resounded a voice in Elori's head.

"Changed, the players have, but the same, the music is. The music of death." Yura's voice grew darkly low. Almost inaudible.

_What are you saying, old woman?_

"Face your fears, you must, if you are to recover. Begin to see this, I do, but not entirely."

"Tell me," begged Elori. "What do you see?"

Yura shook her head. "Wrong – I could be."

Elori's mind jumped back into the past suddenly, and she was momentarily in the core of Malachor V once again. Kneeling in front of Revan, staring at what she believed to be her bloodstained hands.

_No, not your blood. Theirs_.

Jolted back to the present by this realization, she leaned forward despite the pain caused by the grating of her cracked ribs against each other. She managed to wheeze, "I'm carrying their deaths on my back, aren't I?"

Yura pursed her lips tightly together.

She sank back into the bed, breathing hard. Exhaustion was overcoming her to sleep, but a new, yet small, hope bloomed in her brown eyes. "I have to go to Coruscant. Back to the Council. They will make me atone for what I have done – deal out some form of punishment that will remove this guilt."

Yura shook her head, _no_. "If back to the Order you go for explanations, only pain will you find. And if it's punishment you seek, look not to the Jedi, but to your own conscience." She nodded in Elori's direction. "Already in the dark dungeons are you."

"No, they'll know what to do." she insisted.

"If trust their wisdom so much, you do, then why did you go against it? You go only because you seek forgiveness and acceptance back into the Order. Pfeh. Immortal beings, they are _not_. Gods, they are _not_. Arrogance and pride have seeped into their minds. Know this, I do." And then, on seeing Elori's eyes getting pulled into the realm of sleep, she grew louder, demanding the other woman's attention. "Think me an old crotchety ignorant frog, do you? In the Order I was – for ten years."

Elori's eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh yes. Been to far places I have. To Hoth, Nar Shaddaa and even Tatooine. Seen much I have, and lived long."

"You left the Order? _Why?"_ She knew the old woman was Force-sensitive, she had felt that since they had first met. But it had never once crossed her mind that Yura had been trained to be a Jedi. Her scorn for the ways of the Order were made vocal often. It did not occur to her that it must have taken a profound act to cause such strong opinions in the old woman's sharp mind.

"A long story, for another time. But tell you this I will. The Jedi presume to know much. Humility, an asset it is while pride is its enemy. Such unpretentiousness do they lack. They will give you reasons, answers, explanations. But not the right ones. For that, you must look within yourself. If had a good foundation you did, if taught you well, they had – then this would be easier to do." Yura frowned. "If give you an answer I did, create its brand upon you, it will. Even if it is wrong. The true answer will take _time_. And from here only," she thumped her chest in emphasis, "will it come."

She was right. Elori knew this to be so. Already fragments of the picture were beginning to fall into place. The deaths she had caused were an undeniable factor of this dark equation. Malachor V had shown her this. But there were other variables she could not see at the present.

_Time_.

"Remove yourself from the world as you know it. Let not familiar fingers touch you for a time. Time to know yourself, you must have. Time to rest and to heal."

The gears grinded sluggishly in her head. But they worked nonetheless. She needed isolation. Like a piece of clay, she had been touched, molded, distorted and wounded by many a hand wanting a shape of their own. Now she wanted no more imprints of outsiders.

She wanted exile.


	3. Chapter 3

She had stayed longer than she should have. Mataki kept insisting to herself that she needed time to recover from some of the wounds she had suffered from the explosion at Malachor V and thereby extended her stay by more than just a few weeks. Her bones had healed without the aid of Kolto, her bruises had disappeared and forgotten. But she denied it vehemently, and remained in the pleasant company of her friend.

At times, when she wandered the marshlands of Dagobah at twilight, she was left peacefully alone with her thoughts bouncing back lightly from the corners of her mind. Mataki was enormously content. Her thoughts had never conversed with each in the sanctity of solitude. Not like this. Often, the conversations she had had with herself were strategic ones – planning, calculating, decisive. This time she took the time to contemplate and appreciate what she would have previously deemed trivial.

The bark on some willow trees, she noticed, was significantly different from others. And this difference extended to the creatures that made the trees their home. The swamp bats preferred the trees with darker trunks – where the bark hardened and crusted off quickly. The mice-swallows preferred the lighter-coloured trunks, often making holes, and thereby homes, in the trees by etching out depressions in the softer wood with their beaks.

The marshland too, had its own interesting array of creatures. Mataki would often sit upon a slope, hidden well in the shadows, watching them for hours. It was the predators, she sheepishly confessed to herself, that she loved most of all. The swamp-croc – she had named it so for lack of momentary ingenuity – was her favourite hunter. Although it possessed the reptilian tapered snout of an average crocodile, its body belonged to that of a thick, large snake. And like a snake, it moved coldly, yet gracefully, with its powerful muscles through the viscous water.

It was an extremely patient hunter. Often, an unwary brown crane would flap its way down the edge of the bank to quench its thirst. Mataki thought that if she were the swamp-croc, she would attack as soon as the bird bent down to drink – when its guard was down. But the croc remained motionless, the only visible part of its body were its eyes above water level. She had wondered why this was so, and the answer came to her soon enough.

The crane was an agile bird, with superb reflexes. That, together with its small size, made it a particularly unlikely and uninviting dinner. If the swamp-croc decided to have a go at the bird, it would undoubtedly cause a loud ruckus, disturbing the nearby community. All potential prey would be wary, and the poor chap would go yet another night on an empty stomach.

He knew better than that, figured Mataki, watching the animal in fascination. The hunter waited for several hours – along with her as his rapt audience – as a large, lumbering bovine animal made its way to the marsh for a quick drink. Obviously separated from its herd it was slightly more cautious, and hesitated for several moments before drinking. In a split second, the swamp-croc lunged forward and grabbed the animal's neck in its jaw. Its prey struggled in vain, the croc's jaws gripped it hard like a vice, and soon, mercifully, the animal was dead and disappeared underwater. Apart from a few cacaphonic protests from nearby animals, there was no evidence that the struggle had taken place, and all evidence of the croc's presence had disappeared.

_Fine dining tonight_, thought Mataki to herself, breathless from what she had witnessed.

And so, like this, she spent many a night watching life being lived, each animal at its own pace. Watching the beauty, and the ugliness, balance each other.

She wanted to spend more time here, wanted it fiercely because it made her forget so many things. But this want was dampened and made heavy by the fact that she had unfinished business to conduct elsewhere, amongst civilization. _Civilization_, she thought as she scoffed. Civilization was no longer what she had imagined it to be. Nevertheless, she had ends to tie up, matters to finish.

_But right this minute_, questioned a voice?

Mataki smiled. _Just a few more days, _she said to herself, _just a few more days and I'll go back_.

* * *

The sun was up high, and the clouds had dissipated; an unlikely event considering Dagobah's climate. Mataki stood in front of Yura's hut, practicing her defense stances with the help from a thin dead branch. She was not only defending herself from her imaginary enemy's attack, but from thoughts of the near future. From consequences.

"Hmmph." snorted Yura from her doorstep, as she skinned some red potatoes. "In your meeting with the Council, combat you will not need."

_Sidestep, turn, lunge, parry_. "I'm not expecting combat," panted Mataki. "I'm just trying not to forget."

"Ridiculous, do you look, prancing around with that branch. Looking to kill a dancing companion, are you." She threw a skinned potato onto a pile and picked up another.

Mataki ignored the comment. "I know things...about Revan...that the Council needs to be warned about. When they forgive me –"

Yura's ears rose. "_Forgive you?_ Closed their doors on you, they did. No more a Jedi you are to them."

Mataki stopped practicing, and turned to look at her friend. "The Jedi way is that of forgiveness. _Look_, I'm not daft enough to hold hopes about my being re-accepted into the Order. But surely they will want to know more about what is being done to other Jedi – to those who defied the Council and went to war! They will want to know what makes them turn. I can't fully explain myself, what I feel, to them...I can't understand it. But they might be able to, or at least try. And from me, I want them to learn. The only way to overcome a danger is to understand it."

"The only danger they will consider is you. And like in the past, they will behave. If the dark side you have touched, then nothing to do with you, they will want. Turn away your offers of aid, they will."

Mataki scowled in frustration. "All these months, you agreed with me...told me that going back was a good idea, that I needed to face my fears. And now this."

"No!" Yura sprang up and glowered back at Mataki. "For the wrong reasons you seek to return! No return to the past, will there be for you. Your chapter with them has ended. Speak you of aiding them, but know better I do. You want healing, and believe them to be your only medicine."

Elori looked away and thought for a moment. Impulsive and over-emotional, Yura may seem, but that was a clever façade. The woman was over five-hundred years old. She had lived life, and then some. She knew well about matters of the heart.

"What do you think will happen then? What do you see?"

Yura's ears relaxed. "See into the future, I do not. Always in motion it is. But predict, I can. Ask you to abandon your title of Jedi and all ties to that name, they will ask of you. To explain your actions, to try to understand them, they will not."

"So why should I even bother to return to Coruscant?"

Yura shook her head. "Still you do not understand," she said softly. "Of matters of war, you are well versed. But of life, much to learn you have. You wish to repent for the deaths you have caused?"

"Of course," replied Mataki.

"Then a long journey to recovery, you have. But many steps, smaller goals you have along the way. Facing your teachers, facing your errors, is one step. Without it, wandering along blindly will you be."

It made sense, she grudgingly admitted to herself. She had somehow known this all along, despite her valiant attempts at suppression.

"Ideas, am I not trying to put into your head. Accuse you of having committed terrible acts of violent, I do not. You have accused yourself. This truth lies in how you feel. Stop you from going to Coruscant I will not. But tell you reality, and its hard truths, I will. No gain will there be from shielding you." She took a deep breath, turned her back to Mataki and began to walk into her home. "Now come and eat. Leave this evening you must."

* * *

They had pulled the last of the vines and leaves that had helped camouflage Mataki's craft from any overly-inquisitive eyes, and stood standing awkwardlyin front of it.

"Not one for goodbyes am I." muttered Yura as she tugged at something by her side.

Not having noticed it before, Mataki shifted her body to get a better look at Yura's possession. "You thinking of coming along?" she asked, with a semi-smile.

"Cataclysmic events, will it take me, to leave my home. Brought you some parting gifts, have I."

Mataki raised her eyebrows in curiousity.

Yura reaced into the brown sack and pulled up a parcel – neatly wrapped in a plant leaf. "Some swamp-bat stew,"

Yura handed the gift to Mataki, and the taller woman tried to quell the protests rising up in her stomach. _It's the thought that counts_, she repeated, _the thought that counts_. "Thank you,"

"And this too, I have for you." Yura opened up Mataki's other hand gently and placed a metallic, cylindrical object in it. It was a beautifully carved, tapered lightsaber. Mataki ignited the blade, watching the green light shoot out. It hummed comfortingly in her ears as she moved it about lightly. She quickly turned it off. "I can't accept this..."

"Once a Jedi I was, now no more."

"But you built this, it's part of you."

"The reason I want you to have it, that is."

"I already have one, Yura. I can't take yours."

"Your lightsaber, for long, you will not have. Surrender it to the Council you will."

The thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. What once she saw as her constant non-sentient companion, would soon be taken from her. The thought hadn't occurred to her before...

"Your life, the lightsaber is not. Simply a tool. But one given to you as a gift, that carries part of the giver in it, is more. Please accept it." Yura smiled. To a stranger, this looked more like an angry scowl, but Mataki knew this expression well and returned the smile.

"I...thanks. For everything. I don't know if I'll ever –"

Yura held up her hand, stopping her friend in mid-sentence. "See you later, I will. One way or another. Now leave. Home I must go, to cook dinner."

She walked up the ramp to the ship, and turned back once more to watch her friend hobble off into the mist.

"See you," she whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

His footsteps stirred the dust as he marched forward, cape billowing out behind him. As he walked past the excavation sites, many of the people around him glanced up with befuddled expressions that morphed into that of awe. Some dropped their brushes, others stumbled forward to fall into a clumsy sort of kneel. Some bowed their heads and muttered under their breath.

The sun was sinking early – as it always did on Korriban, causing the shadows cast by the large, but seemingly burderned, Sith statues to change quickly with the time of day. The air here was arid, and the constant sweeping winds did not help elevate the low level of humidity. Often, the excavators would have to bring small casks of precious water to quench their dry throats, and carried flasks around with them attached to a belt tied around their hips, leaving nothing to chance.

The man – if indeed he was a man behind that mask – took no note of the stunned silence of the people watching him, but continued on, up the hill.

A Sith guard raised his head at this silent commotion and saw a man, his face obscured by what looked a Mandalorian face mask, no less, approaching the secondary entrance to the Sith Academy. _Someone important_, though the guard and then second-guessed himself. _If he's so important, then why isn't the stupid blighter flanked by guards?_

The guard raised his rifle and pointed it at the strange visitor. "You there! You can't land your ship on these grounds without permission!" He nodded in the direction of the stranger's small craft.

The man kept walking towards him.

_Obviously_, thought the guard, _not only is this cretin stupid, but has experienced a severe loss of hearing_. "Halt!" he cried, raising his voice.

Finally, the interloper was only a few feet away from the guard. When he spoke, his voice was civil, and had an almost harmonious quality. "I hear you fine, Captain. There is no need to point your weapon at me," with that, he stretched out his hand and wrenched the rifle from the guard's grip, flinging it to the ground.

Behind his helmet, the Sith captain's jaw dropped.

"I have matters to conduct at the Academy, so I will make this brief." The intruder held his hands behind his back and his feet apart as he spoke. "It is my belief that we all make mistakes. But to grow stronger, we must learn from them. Today, Captain, you have erred. To emphasize your lesson, I must elicit pain. That is the way of the Sith...I believe that you are already aware of it. But I will be merciful, and perhaps less wrathful than my apprentice, Darth Malak. Your pain will not bring about your end. Just a...small, biting, memory."

The captain noiselessly fell to the ground, clutching his throat. He kicked out at the dust, struggling in vain for a gasp of air. Seconds turned into a minute, when finally, obligingly, his trachea opened, permitting him to gulp in several swallows of sweet air.

As Revan walked past the guard and into the Academy, he said, more to himself than to anyone in particular, "And hence, you have become more knowledgeable."

* * *

Uthar Wynn scurried down the steps of his academy, brushing rudely against the shoulders of his students. However, no one dared to comment on such ill manners, and some even took it in their stride. Strength was acquired through any means. And pride was a sign of it. 

Uthar hastened into a large circular room – commonly used for sparring – and caught the eye of one of the Sith teachers instructing some unknown newcomer.

"Gerhard!" beckoned Uthar with urgency in his voice. The teacher abruptly halted his instruction, and rushed to Uthar's side. "Revan has come here," and then on seeing the other man's stunned expression, "Yes, _here! Now!_"

"What should I do...preparations...?" stuttered Gerhard.

"I...no. No time for that. Just inform the students. I don't want any fights, I don't want to see anyone acting out of line. And for Sith's sake – pick that pitiful drunk off of the floor!" cried Uthar upon seeing one of his students take a sharp kick to the stomach who was now lying motionless on the ground.

"Right away. Anything else?"

Uthar shook his head. He was sure that he should do _something_ – this arrival was so unexpected – if he was warned beforehand, there would have been so much he could have shown Revan, so much he could flaunt regarding the academy's success. But there was no time.

* * *

"Lord Revan," bowed Uthar Wynn. "If I had known you were going to grace us with your presence I would – " 

Revan held his hand up. "Perhaps Darth Malak is more receptive to your...adulations, Uthar, but I must confess to be somewhat immune." He looked around the Academy before continuing. "I see things have been going well here. More new recruits?"

Uthar nodded, his eyes glistening brightly at the compliment. "Yes, my Lord. I have found that the annual increase in those wanting to be part of our order has risen by ten percent!"

"If such increases are possible, then it could stand to go up some more. Double your efforts."

"Yes, my Lord." swallowed Uthar, slightly miffed. He was too eager to please, yes, that was it. He'd be more cautious on the next occasion. He would display his achievements casually – as if he accomplished such goals on a daily basis – and was not awestruck with his ownproficiency.

Revan glanced around him. He saw students focusing intensely on their one-on-one combat training, but knew it to be a neat little charade. It was Revan who occupied their minds, it was his presence they were attempting to understand. He was sure that if he reached out through the Force, he would be able to read their minds, hear their questions. But he did not want to indulge this notion at the moment. "Is there anywhere we can speak away from the curious ears of your students?"

"Of course, my private office is at our disposal." Uthar Wynn held out his hand in the direction of a darkened corridor, gesturing for Revan to lead the way.

* * *

The angular room was surprisingly well lit, in comparison to the other rooms and hallways in the Academy. Perhaps, thought Revan, the skylights above Wynn'stable and console helped. He watched, in some peculiar form of remembrance, as the dust particles – illuminated by shafts of light – floated softly to the ground. 

"Would you like something to wet your throat?" asked Uthar as he made his way to a large steel cabinet.

Revan shook his head. "Thank you, no." It was not that he wasn't thirsty. The Sith Lord was as susceptible to such needs as the next human, but he could withstand such wants, and control them. This, however, was not his reason for declining Uthar's offer. Revan was wary. The Sith were infamous for their ability to usurp power given any good opportunity. Not that Uthar would try something as distasteful as mere poison, for not only would Revan be able to withstand its effects for several hours, but he would be able to read Uthar's evil intent in his eyes. But it was best to be vigilant.

Uthar motioned for Revan to sit down.

Revan walked slowly the head of Uthar's long wooden table. He traced his gloved hand across the smooth, varnished surface of the darkened wood, and entrancingly sat down ina tallchair.

After he did so, Uthar followed suit, seating himself down at the opposite end of the table, and opened conversation. "This must be important, for you to come down here in person. Could you not have sent one of your pupils...?"

"No, I feel that in some instances, one must attend to matters by oneself, if one wishes events to conducted properly."

"Oh, I heartily agree, my Lord." smiled Uthar.

"You are already aware that I have requested fifty of your best students to be sent to the private location I gave you,"

Uthar nodded in assent.

"I have made the same request to our other academies across the galaxy."

"Do you foresee some trouble on the horizon, my Lord?"

Was that fear...or anticipation in his eyes, wondered Revan? "There will always be trouble as long as our enemies exist." Yes, it was fear, he decided.

"But the numbers of the Jedi have been dwindling since you claimed the title of Sith Lord. You fears should be doing the same..."

"Never let down your guard, Uthar!" Revan stabbed his index finger down on the table. "And likewise, never underestimate your opponent. For although pride is necessary for us, it can simultaneously be our downfall. It is truly a great Sith who understands the duality of such an emotion, and who is able to use it to their advantage."

"Like you, my Lord." said Uthar, closing his eyes in reverence.

"But I did not come here to educate you in matters of war. I came here to tell you that I have decided to send pupils of a different sort your way."

"Oh...?" said Uthar. He was more than just curious now. He wished that he could see beyond this mantle that Revan wore upon his face. He wished he could read some kind of emotion in the powerful man before him.

"I know that Jedi who have wandered away from the Order have been under your tutelage for some time now," Revan clasped his hands in front of him. "And you must be knowledgeable in ways to strip away some of their previous teachings and values."

"Of course."

"But these students – they have all come to you _voluntarily_. They have seen the Jedi for what they are, and have turned away from it of their own free will. This task, if you don't mind me saying so, is rather easy and ill-suited to a man of your caliber." He paused for effect before continuing. "How would you – how shall I put this...prefer a challenge?" There was an undeniable hint of humor in his voice.

"I would welcome it as an opportunity to learn, Lord Revan." Truth be told, Uthar was appreciably nervous now. Anxious to please and terrified to disappoint, he could do nothing but agree to whatever was coming his way.

Revan nodded, pleased. "Good. I would like to begin immediate construction for a new section of your academy. I will have architectural plans sent to you soon."

"You wish to expand the size of the Academy, my Lord?" asked Uthar, slightly befuddled.

"No. I would like you to expect some...students. And to welcome these newcomers, I would like you to build their new quarters down to every last detail."

Uthar found himself trembling slightly. Beasts, he thought? Force-draining creatures? Perhaps it was a droid army he was to train. His mind tired at the many possibilities. "What _sort _of newcomers...?" he asked finally and tentatively.

Revan turned his palms upwards, in an opening type of gesture. "Why, Jedi, obviously. Still fresh from the scars of war. Still tied to the teachings of their former masters. I want you to _break_ those ties, Uthar."

"_How_...?"

"They are unaware that they have been conditioned for this, my friend. In short, I have already conducted the first part of the process, I have prepared them for the taking. But as I cannot control time and have other matters to conduct, I leave them in your capable hands." With that, Revan pushed back the chair and rose gracefully from his seat. "Thank you for receiving me."

"As always, my Lord," sputtered Uthar Wynn, still shocked at the news.

Revan paused at the exit to the room. "Do not bother to see me out, Uthar. Oh...and one last thing. When you deal with these Jedi...see to it that you expel every ounce of mercy from your soul. Use all at your disposal to turn them. These Jedi, Uthar, have been hand-picked by me. They hold great potential. But it is likely that some may have the strength to resist. And if they do, I trust you will use their deaths to suit our own ends and convert the rest."

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (01/27/06)**

Ack! This was undeniably the worst chapter I have written in a while. So, to remedy this, I have added some bits here and there. I don't know if it's as effective as a cure for this mini-catastrophe (_are _there such things as mini-catastrophes?) but it certainly has appeased my conscience for now.

Thanks Katimnai and Dante-Revan for reviewing. I REALLY APPRECIATE YOUR REVIEWS! (Note all caps for effect, because I mean it.)

While writing this story, I didn't have a solid plot constructed in my mind, but I think one's developing right now. I may include bits and pieces about some of the other KOTOR II characters, and their little adventures prior to meeting up with the exile. Atton Rand and Mira intrigue me the most...so you can expect to read a little bit about them. As to how I'm going to tie all of this up into a solid story remains to be seen.

Also, if you have any suggestions, comments, or even criticisms, please e-mail me. Thanks again for the reviews.


	5. Chapter 5

Coruscant was no different than what she had remembered. Having been away from it so long and what with the war and all, she half-expected its towering structures and buildings to be singed and crumbling, like they had looked like on the vids of Telos. She looked on the walkways for the scars of heavy laser fire, but there was none.

The capital of the galaxy had been attacked – there was no error in the reports she had received – but it was not an outlying system. In other words, it wasn't one of the worlds the Mandalorians had specifically chosen to attack. Then why was she intently searching for battle scars?

Perhaps that was what she instinctively expected. Dagobah was the only system she had felt distinctively different about. Although the planet was wild, beautifully undomesticated and feral, it was free of war. It's ability to remain untamed kept it apart from the Mandalorian War, and she had expected nothing less of it.

But then, what about Dxun, she thought? Wasn't that cannok-infested moon war-ridden? Wasn't it –

A boy ran up to her as she passed by the food stalls in the marketplace, interrupting her trend of thought.

He panted, more in apparent surprise than in tiredness. "Miss! It's me! Marek! You remember...?"

His eyes pleaded for her to recall his face. She studied it intently, and then moved her eyes down the child's body and recognized Padawan attire. His black hair was cut short, with a braid running down the side of his head. His robe was fresh, clean, and attached to the hilt of his brown belt was a lightsaber. So he had earned the right to carry it, she said to herself. And judging from that open expression, he must have done so recently, meaning that he could be no more than thirteen. Then she must have had seen him with other younglings, and the last time she had seen other younglings was when there was a pairing event in a tournament, and adults had to team up with the youngsters...

"Marek Tem?" she ventured, the name springing out from the depths of her memory.

The boy nodded, more than pleased. "We...I've heard things about you, and didn't think you'd come back."

Mataki raised her eyebrows, bemused. "Bad things?"

Marek shrugged his shoulders a little embarrassed. "Here and there. But it mostly depends from which perspective you're looked at."

"Tell me," she said, starting to walk alongside the boy towards the direction of the Jedi Temple. And then she looked around, "Hey, aren't you supposed to be on some errand right now? I doubt your master would approve of you deviating from your course, but he may do much worse if he sees me with you."

"I'm supposed to order some pallies wholesale. My master doesn't need to accompany me for _that!_" he snorted indignantly. "And besides, I can handle myself."

Mataki smiled in amusement. She remembered him well now. In the tournament he had insisted that he should be the one to attack their opponents first – "catch 'em off guard," as he put it. He was only five.

A nearby fruit seller shoved an oversized pear in Mataki's face, and pulling her head back she politely declined and continued to walk forward. Turning her attention to Marek, she spoke. "So, it's been a long time, hasn't it? Who's training you?"

"Master Keemps. You remember her, she teaches –"

"– planetary physics. Yes, I remember." said Elori, thoughtful. "Wasn't one of my favourite subjects..."

"Me neither!" exclaimed Marek. "I'm horrible at it! But now I know that I'm not the only one. If you disliked it, then it must be –"

Mataki mentally slapped herself. _Talk about bad influence_. "Now Marek, I didn't mean it to come out that way. That subject is essential if you're to understand...um...the gravitational pull of systems." _Boy, was she ever feeling her way in the dark with this one_. "Because if you're piloting one of those difficult-to-maneuver vehicles, it's essential that you don't end up within a certain...er...that is to say, _radius_ of an unchartered system lest you end up in its orbit and become one of its moons."

She tried to focus on a ridiculous-looking parrot that had escaped its cage.

"You must have done pretty bad in that class, huh?" said Marek.

"I burned like a flaming meteor." admitted Mataki.

The boy shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You're a General now. And a hero. That's why you're back isn't it? The Council wants your advice?"

She couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. Up ahead, she saw a boarding platform. "There's the shuttle that'll take us back to the Temple. You coming?" she said, as she walked ahead of him.

* * *

The beauty of the Temple never ceased to amaze her. Not in a purely aesthetic sense of the word, but more in way that reminded her of home. It was elegantly simple, powerful yet humble. It was where she had grown up. The spires were shining in the afternoon sun, and the peaks of two of them were hidden amongst the clouds.

The steps leading up the front door – always open – invited her in. She accepted gratefully, and had to stop herself from running up them.

"It's been a long time for you, hasn't it," remarked Marek quietly. "Don't hold back on my account."

She laughed lightly. She hadn't done so in a long while. "I remember, I remember this so vividly," she said, her eyes shining, "When I was about three, myself and some other friends – we played here. On these steps. We'd pretend that the floor was a large malevolent sea trying to engulf us. The only way we could elude it was by running up these steps," she looked at them fondly, "like it was some kind of protective embankment. I'd be a few feet away from them and cry: "The waves are coming! The waves are coming!" And then we'd run, screaming like wild monkeys up these stairs. We were safe here – nothing could get us."

Marek looked at her face, enchanted. It had changed. In the span of second, it had altered from somber to almost playful. Not that she hadn't smiled before in the marketplace, but that smile was distinctly different. She looked young, but this new face before him had a near-childlike quality.

And then he blurted, "I wish you were my master instead."

The little girl vanished, and General Mataki was back. "_Don't you ever say that_," she said, almost harshly, as she turned to face him. "Don't ever say it again. The Council chooses a master for a Padawan with as much consideration as a Padawan for his master. There is a connection there even before a bond is formed – do not try to deny this. Master Keemps is an _exceptional_ mentor. She...she is the closest thing to a parent you will have. Remember these words. Take them to heart."

Her gaze pierced his eyes. He looked away.

"I need to get going," she said, turning her attention to the inside of the Temple. Then, rather awkwardly, "It's been wonderful to see you again, Marek. Really, it has. I'm sorry for being so coarse with you just now. But I meant every word I said. You can't have seriously wanted me to train you – you've let your feelings of the moment guide your words." She shook her head, "Not a good way to go – especially for a Jedi."

She smiled at him one last time and strode up the steps, not looking back.

"But I do wish it," he whispered to himself. "I always have."

* * *

She wrung her hands – definitely moist with sweat now – as she waited. _Calm_, she told herself. _If you can't control the course of events, why waste emotion on it?_ She snorted. _Because I'm human,_ came the reply.

She was just about to start picking at the blue cloth on the long couch she was seated on when a female Rodian, wearing Jedi garb, coughed lightly.

"_The Council will see you now_." she said, in her own language.

"Ah," was all she was able to muster up.

* * *

And so she stood, amidst them all. In situations like these, she was adept at gauging the emotions of those around her. She had been able to do so since she was a child. She could sense the eagerness and pent-up energy of her friends yearning to play when they were supposed to be focused on more serious events. And she could recognize the bitter pill of disappointment her master had to swallow when she had acted inappropriately.

Today she tasted that same disappointment, only this time it was more intense, and seemed to be flavored with...was that anger?

"And so you have come full circle. To face us." began Atris, her striking blue eyes fixed on Mataki. "I am interested to know – did you receive our message?"

There was more implied in those words, thought Mataki. _Let's try polite_. "What message would that be, Master?"

"Our requesting your presence." she replied, matter-of-factly.

Elori forced a smile. "I did not come here because I was _summoned_. I came of my own free will." _If I still have it_, she wanted to add.

"You see?" said Atris to the other Masters. She let out a bitter laugh. "The _same_. She has not changed. She has not learned. Arrogance flows through her blood."

Master Kavar, the famed Jedi guardian, held up his hand. "Give her a chance to explain," and then he looked at Mataki.

"To explain," began Mataki, "well, it's a rather open-ended question isn't it, Masters? Where would you like me to begin?"

"Why did you not heed our warnings?" asked Master Vrook. His voice was bland, unreadable, as were his emotions. This didn't seem to be leading down a particularly smooth path.

"I believed the Republic to be in danger. The Mandalorians were a threat they were not ready to face alone."

"And you were?" said Atris.

"I did not say I was prepared, Master. I did not attempt to take on the Mandalorians single-handedly –"

"_That would be a little out of your league_," muttered Atris, under her breath, but still audibly.

Mataki stiffened in frustration, but maintained a form of forced cordiality. "In other words, I left to lend aid."

"You left to follow Revan. Is he your new master now? Are the teachings of the Sith the foundations of your new morals?" asked Vrook. His voice gathered emotional speed. It did not contain anger, but like Atris, it was comprised of a certain measure of contempt.

_So they knew_, thought Mataki. _They were aware he was Sith_. "No, Master."

Master Lonna Vash spoke up for the first time, her voice holding a slight ray of hope. "She speaks truly. Revan is not her master. He never was."

"She has no master, Vash. The Sith do not lay claim over her just as the way of the Jedi does not." stated Master Zez-Kai Ell, observing her carefully. "It's something else. Something..._elusive_."

"So you left to lend aid. Did you not stop to think for a minute that there was credibility to our arguments? That there was...no, _is_, a greater danger on the horizon? One that has arisen out of what you, and the others who followed Revan and Malak, have done?"

"I don't understand," said Elori truthfully. "If the Mandalorians have been defeated, then we face the Sith. As we have always faced them. This is not something new."

"Oh, _you are foolish indeed_." spoke Atris.

Mataki lost hold of her emotions for a moment. "It's easy for you to judge, isn't it? To condemn without reason. If someone gives me a straight answer around here – "

"_Elori_." The voice was firm. Commanding. Master Kavar's.

She breathed out hard. This was certainly not going well at all. _Homecoming_; what a load of bantha fodder. Yura was right. "I apologize for my tone."

"Just answer the question."

"Yes, I did consider your warnings. But, what you ordered us to do, your denial of petition after petition after petition of the Republic's pleas for help did not mean rejection of mere requests. _You were denying the value of human life! _You were turning your back on everything the Jedi stood for. It..._just didn't feel right_."

Atris shook her head in disdain. "If you still hold to your severely flawed ideals, then the purpose of you being here will prove futile. You come here to atone for what you have done, you say? I say no. You have come here to flaunt your arrogance, to broadcast your title of "General". You are no general here, Elori. You are hardly a Jedi."

Mataki focused her attention on Atris. _My God_, she thought. _Yura was right. I have come here before them, with all these deaths on my head looking for healing, and I will find none of it here. No forgiveness. Nothing. Let alone forgiveness – perhaps this guilt is a fitting punishment – but they can't understand it. They refuse to. What if...what if what I feel, my state, will mean a similar affliction for other Jedi? Do they care?_

She had to try. Once more. "Atris," she said, deliberately omitting the title of "master", "Whatever you have foreseen, whatever danger is coming our way – you can still stop it. The future is not set in stone. If you...if you don't see what I have become, not Sith, not Jedi, an empty space," _there_, she had admitted it, "then you choose not to understand. You may see one possible future – and it may be a dark one – but by denying it you will have made this future come true."

Atris tilted her chin up slightly, as if taking in these words in a new light. "You choose your words carefully. You are almost as gifted as Revan was in that regard. You speak some measure of the truth, but..."

"...but you are no Jedi." finished Master Vrook.

Elori's jaw tightened and she spoke without holding back. There was no point in doing so. "If this is what the Jedi stand for – inaction, a forceful unwillingness to understand and forgive, narrow-minded defeatists, then _yes_. You are correct. I am no Jedi."

Silence.

"And so it is." spoke Vrook. "If the Order is worth pittance – its ideals and teachings to be molded to your suiting, then this place is no longer part of you. It refuses to be so. The Order denies you a place in its memory. Today you will walk outside of these doors no longer a Jedi."

_And that's the kicker, isn't it?_ thought Elori cynically. _Close the book. End game_.

She took a step backwards.

"There is one last thing. Your lightsaber. You will surrender it to us." spoke Zez-Kai Ell.

She ignited the blade and walked forward purposefully, towards the center stone. With one swift movement, she stabbed it into the stone, and let her grasp fall loose.

"_Keep it_. It holds me no longer." she said clearly.

She turned her back on the Council slowly but surely and walked out.

* * *

As she passed through the large doors of the entrance, an urgency overcame her. The Temple, now menacing, its waves looming above her, was aching to swallow her up. She ran down the steps, as fast as she could, to safety.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (01/28/06)**

This chapter took a hold of me and I just ran with it...it was a lot of fun to write. I wanted to change the exile's meeting with the council from what transpired in the game because it was a tad too abrupt for me. Perhaps that abruptness conveyed the council's reluctance to deal with the situation just then, but I wanted to delve into this more.

I do apologize if you're disappointed by what I've written here and if you expect events to take place according to the game. I have to grudgingly warn you at this point that I may possibly alter little things, here and there.

But anyway, thanks to everyone who took the time out to read this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

The soft splatter of rain drops began to fall against the windows of the Council. Atris' head turned slightly at the new sound, and pursed her lips.

"Much defiance in that one..." said Master Zez-Kai Ell on seeing Atris' tightened expression.

"I did not expect anything less." she responded, gaze still fixed on the clouds beginning to gather around the Temple spires.

"Why?" said Master Vash, rising from her seat suddenly. The others on the Council turned their attention to her, curious. The meeting with the exile was over but their discussions had not yet concluded.

"_Why?"_ repeated Atris. "I believe that by now, that would be obvious. She has been tainted – first touched, and now consumed by war. Her bloodlust for battle has caused her to turn her back to our teachings. Teachings that have sustained us for millennia!"

"That is the answer I would expect from you, Atris." spoke Vash. Her eyes were downcast, disappointed.

Atris leaned back into her seat, slightly stunned. She watched in silence as the other woman walked over to the center stone, where Mataki's lightsaber had made its mark. Lonna Vash noted that the saber had fallen to the floor, its blade deactivated. She bent over to pick it up.

"So you side with her then?" said Atris, a hint of disdain in her voice.

"Atris!" spoke Vrook, warningly. "Be mindful of your feelings!"

"I see what she means, Atris." said Kavar, more appeasingly. "Why would you...why would _we_ expect nothing more from one of our own?"

"Our teachings are not flawed." responded Atris, seeing where this was going. Vash was obviously under the ridiculous notion that the foundation was to blame. _Was she blind?_ The truth clearly lay before them all – an ugly thing to behold – but it was the truth nonetheless. There was no hesitation in Atris' acknowledgements.

"In admitting there is no flaw without a moment of consideration, is in itself a flaw."

"Perhaps. But it appears that it is only I who has faith in our Order." returned Atris.

"Sometimes...our faith can be misplaced." Said Vash as she held Mataki's lightsaber. She tried to activate the blade, but sparks shot out in protest, and it refused to ignite.

* * *

On board the freighter, she found a strange sort of solace. Mataki wanted off Corsuscant, as soon as possible. At one of the local docking stations, she'd found passage aboard a freighter – tickets were inexpensive and room was plentiful. It wasn't as if Mataki was deprived financially – she had plenty of credits that she had earned from the war effort – but it was the best method of transport she could acquire on such short notice.

Apparently its other passengers thought so as well.

Despite the freighter's large size, it seemed full. There was a lot of activity going on during the boarding hours as an endless stream of individuals poured in through various entrances – almost bedlam. She watched as a group of miners came aboard – perhaps they were seeking passage to one of asteroids on the outer rim – she didn't know the freighter went out that far. A troupe of some sort, she couldn't quite distinguish the species, clad in red and grey uniforms strolled in, laughing amongst themselves. Between listening to their idle chatter and studying their unusual attire, she caught sight of a blaster at one's side, almost hidden from view. _Bounty hunters_, she thought? She snorted. Even if they were, she didn't really care. If the _mighty five_ (as she had come to call them) had assassination or kidnap or whatever on their minds, it wasn't her business anymore.

She had settled herself near one of the exits in a corner. Somehow, she had managed to snag a blanket for the journey for five measly credits. Space was cold and usually she had no qualms about that, but on this day, she felt particularly susceptible to the physical assertions of her environment. She leaned against the bland metal wall and brought her knees up to her chest. She studied her clothes dispassionately. Her trousers were somewhat too long, and the shirt and jacket somewhat big, but they served their purpose. She reluctantly admitted to herself that she appeared rather impoverished, but then again, the other passengers seemed like they were in the same boat. And no one would really go to much trouble to distinguish a weed amongst other weeds.

Mataki had cast of her Jedi robes and discarded them in a dumpster in the docking station. It should have made her sad, this rejection of what she used to be, but sadness danced away from her grasp. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to cry, but her tears were adamant in refusing this request. Truth was that she felt rather muted and sullen. She played with her fingers for a while, bored. Soon, her fingers grew tired and dropped onto her lap as an odd sort of weariness overcame her and she fell asleep.

* * *

"Never saw myself as rebellious," said the woman, her blue eyes dancing with amusement. "But I think I see your point." She wore customary Jedi robes, and was attaching her lightsaber to her belt as she spoke.

"Hey, better try to do _that_ in private," responded the man as he warily looked around him. He was referring to the woman's displayed saber at her waist.

"Oh for pity's sake, I think our clothes have already given that away, don't you?" she said mockingly. And then shifted her gaze from her Jedi friend to one of the other rooms aboard the freighter. "Where's our contact? Shouldn't he be here by now?"

The man shook his head and brushed a fleck of dust from underneath his eye. "Don't know. I don't even know what he's supposed to look like. Or whether he's even directly _linked_ to...y'know."

The woman settled herself on a metal crate, and crossed her legs in front of her. "You think this smells right?" she asked, narrowing her brows.

"It isn't like we have much of a choice now. I still think coming back to Coruscant was a mistake. It's just...muddling things up inside. We served him during the war, we won, and now we're just – "

"– drifting aimlessly." finished the woman. "When he last saw us all, he did mention something about loose ends that needed to be tied up. I assume," she paused, lowering her voice, "he means Sith. Not Mandalorians."

"But where could they have struck from?" asked her friend, speaking just as quietly in return.

She swallowed. "There are rumours that they're just biding their time. Waiting for a weak spot to appear in the Republic's frame. And this period of recovery seems ideal."

"But how could they have eluded Revan's grasp?" asked the man, and suddenly realized his error. Their commander's name was not to be mentioned in public, and he held his breath as he glanced around him.

No one seemed to have noticed. The woman shot him a look before continuing. "They have their methods, I suppose. Didn't Samhan lecture us on some holocrons nestled safely away on a remote system? Mustafar, I think it was, although I'd imagine that Korriban would be the best place to protect them. Anyway, they may be as old as Exar Kun's time. Surely, there would be some ancient teachings inside. Just as there are in the Jedi holocrons."

The man sighed and looked away. His short brown hair was just beginning to grow out and his Padawan braid had recently been cut. Revan himself had declared the boy, now a man, to be a fully fledged Jedi Knight. This came without the approval of the Council and therefore, made him slightly rueful. But being a Knight was his ambition since his childhood years, and now he had achieved it. Did the path he rode to reach his intended destination matter so much?

"I just don't enjoy this uncertainty. During the war, we had _objectives_, _goals_. Everything seemed more specific at that time." He snorted. "Huh. Old habits die hard."

The woman touched his arm in understanding. "I empathize with you, old friend. But we gave the Republic our word...we swore an oath to protect it. And if he swears loyalty to it, we swear loyalty to him, and with this loyalty comes certain obligations."

"Including waiting on this refugee-infested freighter for...for a Hutt, for all we know." It was more a cantankerous response than a question. "I just wish I had something to do, is all."

A voice came up from behind them. "Buy you two a drink?"

* * *

They glanced at each other as they followed the man to the bar. He was no Jedi and didn't appear to have much, if any, Jedi affiliation either. In fact, thought the woman, he fitted the perfect profile of a cocksure pilot. She felt very uncomfortable around this fool, and walked behind him to avoid his wandering eyes over her body. _Please God, no_, she said to herself. _Tell me this isn't our contact_.

They sat at the bar, and the woman took a seat next to her friend, deliberately sitting away from Mister Amorous. It wasn't that he wasn't attractive – he undoubtedly was. The problem was that he was completely aware of it. But thankfully, her training had allowed her to evade succumbing to situations like these and see beyond counterfeit flattery.

"Give us a couple of Juris, and don't go easy on the spice." he spoke to the bartender.

"We don't drink." said the woman flatly.

"I wouldn't mind one," interjected her friend, oblivious to her discomfort.

"Whaddaya say, sweetheart?" the man leaned forward, looking at her directly from across her friend. "I thought Jedi are resistant to the effects of spice. Thought you folk were trained for that kind of thing."

The woman smiled sourly. "Ah. But the effects of Juri intoxication do not extend to resistance against your charms." she retorted.

"That's the idea."

She leaned back in her seat and scowled.

The pilot let out a breath and offered his hand to her friend. "Ah hell, where are my manners? Introductions. Name's Jaq."

The other Jedi reached out and shook the pilot's hand affably. "Ben Fria, and she's Yustan Wes-Tar. So you're just "Jaq"?"

The other man shrugged. "Where I come from, names don't get you the goods. It's what you do that counts."

"Goods. I see. You're an...um..." Ben shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

Jaq laughed. "Smuggler. Yeah. Some days I'm something else." He glanced at Yustan.

"I trust you were sent by...?" ventured Ben.

Jaq's smile dropped and was all-business now. He nodded. "We get off at Nar Shadaar, and from there we hop onto my ship, the _Radon_."

"And then...?" asked Yustan.

"Your final location is unknown to me. I'll get the coordinates once we're on my ship. Whatever it is you two are plowing your way into is very hush-hush. _Discretion is imperative_, and all that garbage. You catch my drift."

Yustan's eyes narrowed. He was undoubtedly a fool, but the cover of a fool was an easy one to put on. No one really wanted to dig much deeper. She reached out with the Force and snuck into his mind as he took a sip of his drink. _Good_, she thought, _alcohol made it all the more easier_.

_I wonder if Jedi ever get intimate_, she caught him thinking. _Red-heads have a reputation for being particularly feisty, don't they? A red-head and strong in the Force. This might be an interesting combo. She sure is laying the ice on thick here, but I've seen it before. Underneath all this ice lies a lot of heat. A lot. Yup, she's unmistakably got the hots for you, flyboy_.

Yustan shut her eyes and quickly stopped listening to his thoughts. It was almost as if she had skidded to halt, trying to avoid swerving into an obstacle.

She felt slightly nauseous. And she hadn't even had to drink anything. Her first inclinations had proved to be correct. This idiot came with standard installments of lust for passion of the flesh and credits only. Nothing more. He obviously was in the dark as to what their objectives were, and thought nothing of it. He must have gotten a decent chunk of money credited to his account up front, whilst the amount on delivery must be quite sizeable.

_This could be a good thing_, she thought, as she smiled wanly to herself. Better a fool than some devious traitor.

* * *

Jaq walked across sleeping forms towards the males' room and rapped hard with his knuckles on the door. He tightened his belt and scowled. He'd had one too many drinks. Not that he was susceptible to Juri spice – he could out-drink everyone he knew – and he was well aware of his limits. But he'd let the two Jedi think he was drunk and staggered away from the bar, swaying as if inebriated. Now that he had reached one of the many bathrooms on board, he had another problem. A full bladder.

He pounded hard on the door, and heard a voice yell back loudly in another language. He didn't need any lessons to know what that meant.

"_Take your time_, your ladyship," shot back Jaq, sarcastically, and under his breath.

The noise woke up a baby who began to cry. The baby, in turn, woke up its parents who immediately started cooing over it. The infant intensified its wails and aroused other nearby passengers from their slumber. This included a human, huddled over in a darkened corner. The man...no, it was a woman, walked a few steps towards the family and touched the baby's head tenderly causing it to stop bawling. _Amazing_, thought Jaq. _Must have some kind of influence to make it do that. Jedi_, he thought? He subtly moved closer to the family and strange woman. He couldn't sense anything and he could tell – although the corner was poorly lit – that she was dressed like no Jedi. _Huh_. _Probably just one of them folk who had a way with kids_.

He turned his attention back to the door and yelled. "Whassa matter with you...you putting down some roots?" He deliberately slurred his words.

No response. Jaq sighed. He didn't really want to make his way to another bathroom...besides this was a good spot from where he could keep his eye on the Jedi. Especially the red-head. She was a little more suspicious than her compatriot, and that worried him. She'd even tried to read his mind, and he'd caught her just in time. He grinned. Now she thought he had intentions of desirous sort towards her. If only they knew.

The door slid open and an obese alien shuffled past him, shooting Jaq a look that could have wilted a flower in bloom. Jaq smiled sourly and walked in.

He first ensured that the door was shut securely and then pulled out a comm. link from inside his jacket. He switched it on, and spoke into it.

"How's the weather?" he asked.

A crackle, and then a voice. "_Pretty good down here, considering it's Nar Shadaar. How's it looking topside?_"

"Smooth as they come."

"_Do they...ah...suspect?_"

Jaq grinned. "Guilty of intoxication, and charged as such. Nothing else."

The man sounded pleased. "_I spoke with someone from Korriban...a Twi'lek I believe. Goes by Samara, but I doubt that's her real name. She's already transmitted landing coordinates to your shuttle, and I've sent you some help once you get to the eastern quad. The Rodan's on landing pad 2034J. Expect two Twi'leks to meet you there, and give them your alias_."

"You got a thing for Twi'leks, Ges?" smirked Jaq.

"_Always manage to come by some hefty credits around them. Never lose to 'em when it comes to Pazaak._"

"Thanks for the tip; I'll keep that in mind." With that, he turned the comm. link off and fulfilled the call of nature.

* * *

Walking quietly away from the baby and its parents, Mataki smiled to herself. She felt a little comforted, that someone to small and vulnerable could be so trusting with someone such as herself. Leaning her back against the wall in her spot, she gave a small wave to the parents of the child. They responded gratefully.

Closing her eyes, her thoughts started meandering around corners. She thought about the freighter and imagined that she was deep in the belly of a giant sea beast, swimming through the unknown depths of the ocean. Could a person survive inside an animal's belly for long? Weren't there usually digestive juices? Maybe only in the stomach, she thought. Besides, don't some of the more bovine creatures have bacteria that aid digestion in there? Yeah, she was a bacterium, alright. She chuckled, her eyes still shut. But she – along with many other species – did live within their mothers' wombs for a given period of time. So she had, in a sense, lived inside of someone.

_Mother_.

Her smile dissipated. She didn't remember her parents at all. The only thing she was aware of was that she was taken from a planet called Endor. Honestly, she wasn't even sure whether it was a planet or a moon, for they both went by the same name. It was an unimportant, overlooked, system. It was shrouded in a dense forest of the temperate sort, with swamps and plains scattered about. She believed that the natives consisted of 'Woks, or something similar sounding along with a few human villages.

Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't be privy to such information. But she had discreetly made some inquiries when she was younger, curious as to her origins. She had a photographic memory, and brought to mind the images she had managed to get her eyes on from the archives. Apparently, they had kept parental records of all the Jedi who had been, and were being, trained. In the little time she had to view such files, she was able to see about twenty images of Endor, and some villages, but there were no pictures of her relatives or parents.

In all this time after her meeting with the Council, after coming on board the freighter destined for who knew where, Mataki had desperately tried to avoid thinking about tomorrow. She was content to wander without aim or responsibility. In a way, it was a relief. But now, her first destination had sprung to mind, and a hunger welled up inside of her that could only be satisfied with her arrival there.

Home.

* * *

Yustan turned her head to the sound of a child crying in the next room. She was about to step off of her bar stool, but stopped as soon as the crying did. Apparently the mother must have managed to calm it.

She allowed her elbow to rest on the bench, and cupped her chin in her hand.

"Not satisfied?" asked Ben, studying her.

"Our contact is an _intoxicated, lustful, moron_. I couldn't be more thrilled."

Ben shrugged. "Well, they must have chosen him for a reason. Perhaps he'll lead us to someone more...more..." he struggled, unable to find the words.

"Educated? Of sound mind? Capable? Oh lord, Ben, I'd take anything over him."

"Even a Hutt?" he asked, somewhat dubiously.

She turned to look at him and gave him a smile. "What exactly do you have against the Hutts?"

"What's there _not_ to hold against them? They're filthy, disgusting, corrupt –"

Yustan laughed. "Ah yes. The Anchorhead incident. How could I forget."

Ten years ago, before the blasted war had begun, Ben was still a Padawan and had accompanied his master on various missions. One of them had been to infiltrate a certain mob-lord's drug den. Fortunately for the Jedi, the mob-lord was a Hutt, and most Hutts were susceptible to flattery, especially in the form of gifts. Unfortunately for Ben, this particular Hutt had an affinity for young boys, and found amusement in having them prance around with the other Twi'lek dancing girls. Ben Fria was offered to the Hutt as a counterfeit token of gratitude. He'd had to do this for a month, and never quite got the bitter taste of the experience to leave him. Despite the obvious twisted nature of it all, Yustan had managed to find some humor beneath the surface.

Ben hadn't.

"Laugh it up. Turn the tables, we'll see who'd be laughing then." He glowered at his drink.

She patted him affably on the back. "Oh, come now. Some comedy would lighten our situation. We have only a few more minutes till we hit Nar Shadaar...a few more minutes surrounded by this...eclectic crowd. Much like it was in Anchorhead, I trust."

Ben let out a smile out of the corner of his mouth somewhat grudgingly, remembering. "Huh. A cavorting type of buffoonery, all right." He chuckled softly. "And what a dance it was."

* * *

"This is the refugee sector, I take it?" said Yustan after they had disembarked. She crinkled her nose. Nar Shadaar was night, as it often was. The walls were stained with graffiti and some sort of grime, it was almost as if the years of hopelessness it had suffered had caused it to sweat out the nauseating liquid.

"Nope. This here is a rose garden compared to that dump." responded Jaq. "East quad is what we call it. Come on, the landing pad's not far off."

The three of them started walking.

Yustan looked at Jaq, and narrowed her eyes. "You were drunk before – _heavily_."

He was walking fine now. _Damn! Had he laid it on too thick before?_ He waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Lady, you don't get to be as good as I am if you can't recover from a couple shots of Juri spice. A drunken pilot does as much good as a drifting asteroid."

"Juri spice consists of Corthionium, it isn't excreted from the human digestion system as fast as other compounds. There's no way you could recover that fast."

_This one was too sharp for her own good._ "You want details on my digestive tract?" he asked, incredulously. "Heh, if that's what you Jedi are into these days...I'll tell ya." He lowered his head a fraction of an inch, and looked directly into her eyes. "Shortly before we weighed anchor, I disgorged the entire contents of my stomach, thereby not allowing your Corthi-whatever to seep into my bloodstream. If you want some samples to send back to a lab, I believe I spewed some here on my jacket and –"

Ben held up his hand in protest. "No, no, that's not necessary. Just take us to the landing pad." He glared at Yustan, and spoke quietly, but harshly into her ear. "Do me a favour and lay off the questions, okay? This excessive volunteering of information doesn't exactly sit well with my stomach."

"Hey, hey...there she is," said Jaq, grinning, as they slowed down. "There's my baby."

They looked up to see a rickety shuttle that looked like it could have originated around the same time hyperdrive technology did. Ben's eyes widened. Yustan raised a hand to her mouth and tightened her lips.

"Her sub-light engines are the fastest in the galaxy." said Jaq, studying their expressions.

"You know that from experience, do you?" said Yustan coolly.

Jaq shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, as if used to this response. "Hey, she's got it where it counts." He then looked behind him, distracted. "You two get on board – here's the pass key – yeah, I trust you with that piece of marvelous modern technology. Go on. There's a Pazaak dealer in that corner there, I need to add some cards to my collection."

They could do nothing but comply at this point. So reluctantly, the two Jedi climbed up the ramp and entered the battered vehicle.

* * *

He approached the two Twi'leks carefully, gun neatly tucked away in his trouser belt. Hard to see, easy to grab. Just perfect. Not that he didn't trust the men that his friend, Ges, had personally selected to send, he just didn't trust _anyone_. Period.

He nodded at the two Twi'leks, and they approached him, speaking their native language.

"_Your name first,_" one of them said.

"Kit. Ges sent you, I believe?"

The maroon-skinned Twi'lek – Jaq dubbed him "Red" – nodded. "_We have never done this kind of thing before, know that it is poverty that drives us to._"

"I don't care what your motives are, as long as you brought me what I need."

"_We have_." spoke Red. His sapphire-shaded compatriot, now christened "Blue" wasn't as articulate, noted Jaq. "_Pardon us for asking, but what do you need the...tranquilizer for?"_ He handed Jaq a large metallic canister.

Jaq looked up quickly. "You're not being paid to ask questions. And besides, I didn't ask for a standard animal trank. I asked for something else."

"_Forgive us. It is the liquid that you had asked for. We just cannot find it in ourselves to mention its name. On the black-market, it is even considered dangerous. Very painful. And lethal in high doses. We hope it is not used on the innocent_."

_Oh Ges_, thought Jaq, _you sure know how to pick 'em_. _Deluded by visions of morality;_ _that sure as hell makes fools of us all_.

Jaq smiled, without sincerity. "How many syringes in this package?"

"_Fifty._"

Jaq held it up as he walked away. "Thanks, boyos. And trust me, the people who're gonna be on the receiving end of _this_ aren't the least bit innocent."

* * *

He walked onto his ship slowly. As he did so, he twisted opened the canister and took out one syringe. He stored the rest in a hidden compartment in the cargo hold. He was confident, but not overly so. It didn't help to get cocky when it came to dealing with situations like these. In his line of business, underestimating your opponents was high on the list of fatal errors.

He caught sight of the red-head in the corridor and took a deep breath. _Alright. Ladies first_.

"Make yourself at home, we're gonna be in here awhile." he said as he approached her.

She opened her mouth in protest. "I thought you said you'd get the coordinates as soon as we were on board,"

Jaq moved closer towards her and she was up against the wall of the corridor. "What's the matter? Don't you like it here?"

She looked away from him, slightly flustered.

_That's it, sister, let's shake up your calm a little bit_. "Do I make you uncomfortable?" he asked, a little softly this time.

She tried to focus on the control panel to her left in the cockpit. He had come on to her so suddenly, she hadn't expected it. And there was an undeniable attraction that he held, fool that he was. Or was he? "Sir, if you would maintain your distance –"

"Oh, so I'm "sir" now, is that how it is?" he smiled, with his eyes and his mouth. There was no malice, no swagger, no pride. He almost seemed gentle. He lifted up his hand and started to touch her hair.

"Please don't. I'm not that kind of person. You don't really want to get involved with me," her voice was low now. He was getting increasingly difficult to resist by the second.

"I thought it was the other way around. Y'know, smuggler scum..." he began to caress the skin of her neck.

"Mm." was all she could say in response. Besides, one kiss couldn't hurt, just one moment where she could give in. It couldn't do much damage. He leaned in and she closed her eyes in guilty anticipation.

She felt something sharp jab into the nape of her neck, and she opened her eyes in shock. Pain, intensifying in waves, began to spread across her body, and she looked at the eyes of her attacker in hurt surprise. She wanted to fall down, and curl up into a ball, but something held her up and she realized it was him. He avoided her gaze. She tried to fight whatever it was that had entered her system, but it was hard, so hard. _Ben_, she thought. _Call Ben_...

Her eyes rolled back into her head as her mind refused to be privy to such pain.

Jaq let out a breath. _One down_. The hardest part was over. A wave of emotion swept over him, and he pushed down hard on it. _God_, _their eyes_, he could never forget those eyes.

_Heads up kid_, he told himself. _Honcho number two is on the way_.

Ben Fria came running down the corridor to see Yustan with her arms around the fool pilot, lips locked in a kiss. His jaw dropped, and a moment later, he started grinning. This could, quite well, be in his favor. He could call it the Nar Shadaar incident and tease her about it for years to come.

"Alright you two, knock it off," he began, when he realized that something was horribly wrong. He wasn't sensing anything from Yustan. No longing, no enjoyment, no nothing...

Jaq looked up. _Oh damn_. _This guy wasn't easy pickings_. He dropped the female Jedi's limp body to the floor and ran towards her male counterpart. Thankfully, Ben was taken by surprise, and Jaq was one step ahead of him. He hit the Jedi's forehead hard with the base of his right hand, throwing his full weight into the punch. Jaq smiled. _The Sailor's kiss, gets 'em every time_. Ben's head was jolted backwards, but he wasn't knocked out. Jaq took the opportunity to slam his left hand, fingers curled up into a fist, into the other man's stomach. He heard something clatter to the floor. He hoped it was the Jedi's lightsaber.

Distracted momentarily, Ben managed to get in a kick to his opponent's chin as he went down. Jaq staggered backwards, and remembered the syringe suddenly. _Where in the heck was it?_ Didn't matter now, this had become a regular fight. And by regular, he meant anything goes. He leapt on top of Ben and punched the side of his head. He knew the other man was seeing stars – Jaq never pulled his punches. But he was not down yet. Using his knees, Ben shoved them up hard into Jaq's stomach. But the hit was only partially effective; Jaq had readied himself for this move and had sucked in his gut, tightening his muscles. It was almost as if he was anticipating his movements.

_Who the hell was this guy_, thought Ben?

Suddenly the weight was off him...where did he go? Lightsaber, thought Ben. He's going to kill me with my own blade. He raised his head, and tried to use the Force to pull his sword towards him and then realized, in surprise, that that wasn't what the other man was after. He didn't intend to kill him. What in the world...?

A needle slammed hard into Ben's thigh. The liquid ran through his system faster than it had through Yustan's. The blood was pumping quicker. He closed his eyes in pain and blacked out, his previously raised head dropping with a thud to the floor.

Jaq staggered to his feet and wiped the blood off his chin with the back of his hand. He scolded himself severely. _Never underestimate your opponents, you dumbass_.


	7. Chapter 7

"_That's Endor_," said the Bith humanoid, looking up at Mataki from the ship's window.

She peered out eagerly, with her hand pressed up against the plastic glass. She saw smatterings of thin clouds pasted along Endor's atmosphere, and in between, varying shades of green. "That's Endor..." she repeated quietly.

"_Not the best place to perform – so you can see we flew out of our way to get you here_," reminded the Bith for the umpteenth time.

Elori Mataki smiled. The Bith were not known for charitable acts – especially ones who were well known in the music industry. And the Bith she had temporarily hooked up with was indeed something of an icon, especially back on Coruscant. She had met Flet'ar when the freighter had docked at one of the Upper Cities of Taris. Wanting to stretch her legs outside the large yet cramped frieghter, Mataki had strolled into an obscure cantina, where Flet'ar, was performing. He was a one-man band at that moment, and had taken to frequenting humble cantinas to see what the public would think of him without his back-up crew. Perhaps he saw a kindred spirit in her, or perhaps he just needed a listening ear...but whatever the case, he had taken to Mataki, and struck up a conversation with her.

She was deliberately vague about her origins, determined to focus on the now. And presently, she had explained, she was traveling. _On vacation_, he had asked her? _Something like that_, she had answered. Flet'ar had said that he would like nothing better than to take a holiday from his own life. The pressures of fame sometimes counterbalanced the benefits. Especially if you found that something you believed you wanted so badly wasn't all it was cracked out to be.

"Tell me about it," she had said.

Flet'ar had taken a swig of the brightly coloured fruit punch, and continued. "_I've wanted to enter the world of music with a bang. I wanted to hit it big_," he'd gulped down another portion. "_So I worked hard. Made it to every single practice session, had the best teachers...there were some nights I didn't go to sleep for days on end – especially if that ever-elusive tune appeared to be within reach_."

"But your perseverance paid off, obviously. So why the wallowing in cheap bars and their equally horrid fruit cocktails?" Mataki had said with amusement in her eyes and her chin in her hands.

The Bith leaned forward, his large head swaying slightly from the effects of the cocktail. "_It's not what I want_." He'd sighed. "_I mean, can you imagine a greater irony than that? I've completed all parts of the equation to arrive at the answer. The hard work's in. So's the talent. Years and years of climbing, overcoming failures, obstacles, to reach the summit_." He'd stood up suddenly, nearly knocking his stool over. He splayed out his hands, "_And now I'm at the summit...and I don't like it. Not one bit._"

She didn't bat an eye. "Sounds familiar."

The Bith's face had creased in speculation. "_What do you mean?_"

She'd laughed dismissively. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Anyhow, we're talking about your career here – let's focus on that. And do sit down, before you do yourself an injury."

Flet'ar had sat, his interest aroused.

She wrung her hands in thought. "Do you ever wonder, why you feel the way you do?"

He'd let out a bored whistle. "_Look here, if I wanted to see a psychologist, I could have the best in town –_"

"No, just answer my question."

"_Why?"_ he'd scratched his head. "_I suppose I was better suited to a career in...agriculture. Or mechanics. Or Kolto processing_." He was getting impatient. "_Is this going somewhere?"_

"That depends on you. Obviously, I can't answer on your behalf. But I can tell you a thing or two that might help steer you onto the right path. Maybe you did something along the way, something you aren't proud of. And perhaps, subconsciously, you're punishing yourself for it."

"_That's insulting! And...and what's more, I won't stand for it!"_ he'd shouted. So he'd gotten up from his stool and swaggered off. A minute later he had returned, and sat back down. "_You're right you know. Heh, if I had your pale complexion I would be blushing right now. It's only 'cause I'm drunk that I'm admitting anything. But yes. I turned away from people – people I once cared for. People who helped me get where I am now. I shunned them_. So, my now-_realized ambition is no longer as sweet – it has a bitter flavour to it. But I don't know what happened to me, Elori, I have no idea. I lost me along the way. And somehow, this new person took my place, and I've hated him ever since_." And suddenly, with a deep intake of breath, the Bith had begun to bawl. Tears sprang from his lidless eyes, and collected in a small puddle on the bar-stand.

Mataki held her hand up to her forehead, unsure of what to do. "Then we're alike – you and I." she had blurted out.

Flet'ar had looked up, still hiccupping from his remaining sobs. "_You're in the music game too?"_

She'd shook her head. "Not exactly. But I may know how you feel. I have...strayed somewhat from the person I had wanted to become. And I paid, no, I'm _paying_, the price for that mistake." And then on seeing his dismayed expression, hurriedly continued on. "But that's not to say you can't find forgiveness. You can."

"_How?"_

"These people you care for, are they still alive?"

"_I don't know, I imagine they should be_."

"Then go to them. Don't hesitate."

"_But I have things to finish up here –_"

Mataki held her hand up. "If you acknowledge your mistake, then your sorrow will be sincere. And if there is time yet to see them, to hold them again, mercy is still on your side. From experience, I'm telling you to go now, before more regrets catch up with you."

He'd appeared to be sobering up as he pushed his drink aside. "_What exactly did you do?"_

"If I told you, you'll promise to go see them? And you will promise never to speak of what I told you again?"

The Bith nodded. "_My word_."

She'd pulled her drink towards her. "Murder."

* * *

Nothing further was discussed about each other's own histories. Perhaps their conversation had cancelled out any prejudices they would have had against each other. In any case, he was insistent that he take her to Endor on his private ship, the _Starway_. It was the least he could do to repay her for actually listening to his wretched tale, he had said.

Mataki had wondered why the Bith hadn't pressed her for more details, or maybe asked her for her full name even, but came to no solid conclusion other than that of mutual understanding. There were names he was reluctant to say out loud, and relationships that pained him to speak of. She felt the same way.

Hix. Bao-Dur.

_Do not speak the names of the dead_.

Was that her new philosophy?

The empty hollow inside tugged at her heart to let go and give up. End it now, it had pleaded. Our only redemption lies in death. Hope lies in a world beyond this one. _Shut up_, she cried! _If it was weakness that had caused me to stray, then it is weakness that seeks to take me now. And I can't let that happen_.

But you have taken more than you can ever hope to give back.

_There is still hope_, she told herself. _A fool's hope, perhaps, but a hope nonetheless_.

She turned her attention to the now. Here. With this strange companion.

And so they sat, looking out the window, two acquaintances who would undoubtedly never forget each other as they journeyed their separate ways.

* * *

The landing was a little rougher than she anticipated. Every minute or so, she found herself clutching the arms of her seat as the ship lurched downwards, causing her stomach to fall sickeningly with it.

"_Endor's atmosphere is conducive to change_," explained Flet'ar.

"But there were hardly any clouds in the sky!" protested Elori, referring to their earlier view of the planet.

Flat'ar shrugged. "_Like I said. Conducive to change equals sunshine one minute and storms the next. But don't worry, this usually happens once per standard year. I think the natives here call it the Turnover season_."

"You know something," the ship dropped a couple meters and her head was thrown forward slightly, "...you know something about the natives?"

"_Nothing more than what I read in a travel guide. And Endor's not on the big hit list. From what I recall...there are some primitive tribes – Ewoks – omnivorous creatures_."

"Are they dangerous?" asked Mataki.

The Bith shook his head. "_I couldn't say. And I've never seen one either. Basically, you're in forest terrain – and unfamiliar at that. I'd be careful even these animals were veggie-vorous. You have any weap –_" he stopped himself, "..._of course you do_."

She gave him a knowing smile.

A few seconds later, the ship had stopped moving altogether, and the pair unbuckled themselves from the safety of their seats and made their way to the exit.

* * *

The rain was coming down in sheets now, and Elori stared through it from the safety of the covered ramp. _What a homecoming_, she thought. And with that contemplation in mind, she wondered about how she would make her way across the planet. She had no map. No scanner. Just a few Republic credits at hand and the clothes on her back. Ever the well-prepared traveler, eh?

"Looks like you'll have quite the hike to make!" shouted Flet'ar, over the roar of the rain.

Mataki looked back at him, her face expressionless.

"_Lucky for you I'm Bith, my friend!_" he tapped the side of his over-sized head. "_I'm picking up a signal about north-east of here._" Flet-ar pointed, using his long finger. "_They're electro-field signals, repetitive patterns. I'm guessing droids. However, I doubt that Ewoks employ droids..._"

For the first time in a long while, a flicker of hope crossed Mataki's face. "North-East, you say? I'll head that way and cross my fingers that I walk in a straight line!"

The Bith laughed. "_I don't think you'll veer off the path this time_." He looked behind him and then back at Mataki. "_You're good then?"_

She stepped off the ramp and into the rain. "I'm good, Flet'ar. How about you?"

"_Getting better now_." He gave a mocking yet friendly bow, "_I thank you for your illuminating words. Travel well!"_

Elori grinned and walked a few feet away from the ship, watching it take off in the midst of the rain. She blinked away the constant barrage of raindrops until the ship was out of sight and walked into the forest.

* * *

She wasn't aware of how long she had been walking. There was no transaction to make, no assignment to complete. Time, for the first occasion in a long while, was on her side.

As she hiked on, Mataki was hoping that the Turnover season would turn over again and that the overcast sky would relent and let some sunshine through. But she looked up and saw no chance of that happening anytime soon. Of course, it could have been much worse. What if it hailed down chunks of sharp ice? Or there could be strong winds, or forest fires –

"Halt!" cried out a voice.

Mataki nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Lay down your weapons!" it cried out again.

Damn this, why couldn't she sense this individual? "I have no weapons," she lied, fervently hoping that her person would not be searched. And if it was, she hoped that they could not identify a lightsaber.

"Where is the rest of your party?" it asked.

_Buddy, I'm it_, she said to herself. "It's just me!" she yelled out instead.

He apparently couldn't hear her over the rain and asked her again, louder and with more warning this time.

"There is nobody else! I'm alone!" she shouted. _Let's throw our hands up for good measure,_ she thought. She raised her hands up slowly and placed them behind her head.

The gesture of surrender induced the stranger to come out from hiding. He jumped down from a branch hidden within foliage and came forward with a rusty blaster in his hand.

Mataki tried not to grin. The blaster the man held was a plaything at best. The laser fire – when the setting was on high – could do no more injury than to singe her skin slightly. She was tempted to draw out her lightsaber and teach the fellow a little lesson when she reminded herself; _we're on his territory, old girl. His land, his soil. First off, let's be respectful. Secondly, it's a good bet that he knows this environment better than you do. And if there was anything that gives you the upper hand in a one-on-one confrontation, it was being aware of your surroundings_.

As he stepped into better light, she was about to say something further, something to appease his fears about her, when she saw his face.

There was nothing remarkable about his features – but he appealed to her – though not in the romantic sense of the word. His facial structure was that of a man's but possessed a slight feminine quality to it, almost as if he had only just reached manhood and retained the fragments of his boyhood through memory and not by choice. And his eyes...she was unaware of how she long she was staring at them. _Familiar eyes. I have seen those eyes_.

_Who are you?_

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" said the man, jabbing the barrel of his weapon into her shoulder. "Who're you?"

Jolted out of her own thoughts, she managed to stammer out, "No one. Just came here to Endor to...um...visit."

The man laughed in disbelief. "Yeah, that's the best one yet. Why don't you take your starport visa to the tourist office in our city and we'll book you a room in the meantime?"

She closed her eyes. "Alright. So I'm not a tourist. But I have no hostile purposes here." Mataki opened her eyes again. "I've just come here to find out a few things."

"Really? Like what?"

"I had a friend, who fought in the Mandalorian wars. She was Jedi, and she was born here. I need to...I need to see if her family still lives."

The man lowered his gun, his stance changing from tension to surprise. "There was a kid here, taken from one of the neighbouring villages. But that was when I was...I don't know, around three I think. I'm not even sure I got the entire story straight. But there was something going on between some different tribes or a larger battle, and somehow, her parents got caught in between. A Jedi _happened _to be here, and he took the child. He didn't help save anyone. He didn't revive her parents."

Elori looked at him speechless.

The man snorted. "Looks like your trip has been a waste of time, doesn't it?" He tucked his gun into a holster by his side, deciding that she was no longer a threat. And then on seeing her stunned expression, "Hey, don't look so shocked eh? That's what Jedi do. They add more Force-sensitives to their collection. They have no sense responsibility for any repercussions they may cause. Feeling is something they lack. I heard it's even in the Jedi Code – they don't have emotion." He narrowed his eyes. "You're not Jedi, are you?"

She wasn't listening to him anymore. She came somewhat prepared for the fact that her family may be dead or gone. But she wasn't ready to hear that she had been taken from them without their permission. This wasn't possible. No, he was wrong. He had to be.

Finally acknowledging him, she spoke. "How do you know all of this?"

"There aren't many people here on Endor, Miss. And nothing much exciting happens – the only gossip we get here is whether the neighbouring tribe uses guava juice in their stew pots instead of water. Not exactly headline news, if you catch my drift. These deaths, and the stories about them – they're bound to stay in the memories of many generations to come."

"Then they're stories then...just theories built up from rumours...?" she asked with desperate hope in her voice.

"No. They're fact. My uncle was there when it happened."

* * *

The trek back to his village was a blur. Every tree, clearing or stream they passed could have been one and the same for all she cared. A knot of impatience grew, and there was one sole purpose in her being here. _Answers_. She wanted them now. But as always, circumstance was not forthcoming, and her needs were forced to wait.

The rain did not relent and neither did her questions that went through her mind in an inflexible circle. _Okay. So they were dead – her family. Alright. Deal with it. You never knew 'em, so you can't really mourn 'em. But how did they die? Who was responsible for it? Could it be that the Jedi...? No, no. They wouldn't. They couldn't have done so. So it was some other outsider who should be held accountable. But that gave no right for the Jedi to take her from them! Where did free will and choice come into all this? Their preachy words and sermonizing didn't echo their actions_.

That's it, get angry. Rage.

_I can't. I'm too tired_.

But they forced you to live a life you didn't want to!

_I don't know the entire truth_.

Liars. Every single one of them. Especially that Atris. And don't you notice how convenient their absence is? Where are they when the consequences of their actions arise? Where were they when children were being slaughtered at the hands of Mandalorians? They're not here now, that's for sure. They avoid accountability...so that you have to face it. Deceivers and cheats and falsifiers. They should pay.

_My mother and father are dead. Many Mandalorians have been killed. Hix is dead and Bao-Dur...he's gone too. What makes you think more vengeance will bring me peace?_

There is no peace. There is only retribution.

"You alright?" asked the man.

Did she look that disturbed, pondered Mataki? If there was anything she was good at, it was masking her emotions. How could he know? "Yes, I'm alright. I'm just a little taken aback at how sudden all of this is."

"Was she a close friend?"

"Ah...yes. We were very close."

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said. His manner had changed somewhat from when he had first encountered her. Mataki had managed to convince him that she was no Jedi – a truth, from a certain point of view – and that she was intent in having some questions answered. Hence, the need for this long journey. He had wondered why she hadn't asked him his name, and left the reason to her being rather shocked at the news. After all, the people she had come to find were no longer here, changing the purpose of her visit to a certain extent. "How did she die, if you don't mind me asking?"

Mataki had no difficulty in circumventing the truth. "Ghoul's disease. It affects the heart."

"But she was a Jedi – a coronary malady isn't something I see Jedi succumbing to." he replied, slightly befuddled.

_How to explain this with brevity_, she asked herself? "It appears that the Mandalorian Wars had taken their toll on her."

"Oh," He wasn't quite satisfied with that answer, she could tell. "But how –"

"How much further to your village?" she interrupted.

"We're here, actually."

Mataki looked around and saw nothing save for the thick trunks of trees and the tall ferns that grew below. She looked back at him questioningly.

The man smiled. "Maybe you should look up,"

Her eyes followed the tree trunks upwards to see large wooden platforms spanning across neighbouring trees. The walkways – that was the only term she could come up with – appeared to be sturdy because they held up not only people, but houses, or huts...at least three or four between each tree. It was much like a scaled down version of Wookiee habitat she had once observed on Kashyyyk. Some people had gathered to peer down at her and some women could be seen stepping away from their chores to take a look at the newcomer.

"Ah," she said finally. "So how do we get up?"

* * *

As they climbed up a rope ladder that had been lowered, her companion spoke. "Everyone hasn't been living this way forever, you must understand. We've only taken to building our homes up in the trees about seventy years ago."

"What made you do it?" Mataki asked, as she got her left foot entwined in a portion of the ladder, and wrenched it free with a jerk.

"Wolfebeests."

A shiver ran through her along with an inexplicable fear. She recognized the fact that it was almost childish, like some infantile bogeyman tale, nonetheless her fear did not dissipate. She quickened her pace up the ladder to get away from the ground.

"They're fewer in numbers now. We've formed a sort of alliance with the Ewoks down south of here, and have tried to drive these creatures of out of existence." He snorted. "But even though there's less of 'em, they're still quite dangerous. Normally, if the Wolfebeests were indigenous to Endor, we could find some way to co-exist with them, I suppose. But they aren't. There's a lot of speculation as to how they came to be here."

"Have a lot of people died?"

"No, not many at all. Not one person has been killed for the past five years. We think they may have localized their breeding grounds to someplace far from here. Or maybe it's because we live upside – and we're less of a target these days."

When they reached the top, Mataki dusted her hands on her trousers and looked at her companion. "Who do you think introduced them to Endor?"

He shrugged. "We're not an army. We have watchmen, but no one really looks to the skies. If anyone wanted to conduct business down here, they could very well do so without our knowledge or consent."

Elori cocked her head to one side, studying him. "You know, for one being so overly-cautious, you've become very forthcoming with information lately."

The man looked away, simultaneously embarrassed and guilty.

Another voice, older, raspier, spoke out from behind them. "That's because we're not a breed of warriors. And we don't stem from a culture of spies."

She stepped to a side to gaze on this new stranger and caught sight of a man who looked younger than he sounded. Only his brow was creased with lines while the rest of features remained free from the effects of anxiety. His temples were graying, however, like silver rivers beginning to seep into a sea of black. His brown eyes were alert and mistrustful, and this caused Mataki to be on her guard, reciprocating such caution.

_So you imply I'm Republic Intelligence, do you, _she thought in amusement?

The younger man turned to his elder and spoke before Mataki did. "Uncle, this is a friend of the Jedi child that was taken. The one you told us about..."

The man rolled his eyes in frustration. "For pity's sake, must you broadcast this news all over?"

Neighbours with overly-anxious ears stepped forward on cue, their curiousity piqued even more.

"Come, the both of you, let's go to my home where we shall be safe from the consequences of idle tongues." With that, he grabbed his nephew by the arm, and nodded for Mataki to follow him.

* * *

Twilight had set itself upon Endor, and together with the diminishing sunlight and the lamps that lit up the walkways, the hut was enveloped in a sense of warmth and comfort. The old man had furnished his frugal but cheerful home with an array of ferns – some hanging down from beams supporting the ceiling and some adorning the corners of the three rooms that made up his house. His lamps were all powered without the use of any gasoline. Gasoline was an unnecessary danger, he had explained, given all the wood surrounding them. Setting fire to his entire village was not how he would like to be remembered.

He had instructed his nephew to make their guest welcome, and sent the younger man into an adjoining room to prepare something for an evening meal. Elori felt the scent of something quite palatable waft her way and politely asked the senior as to its origins.

"Rogash bulb in tomato sauce." he'd answered to the point. "Nothing spectacular and easy to make."

She nodded not quite knowing what to say next. She had many questions, and though she tried holding them back, she was unsure as to how long she could do so. It wouldn't be long before the dam would give way.

"You look like you do with a good bite to eat." he threw in.

"Smells good," she agreed, but her stomach churned in refusal. Her appetite waned with each passing minute.

"Then let's eat." said the man, rising up from his seat.

Mataki remained seated and finally blurted out, "Sir, I'm – I really can't stomach anything at the moment." She studied his face; it was expressionless. "It's not your food, it's just that I have traveled a long way. And I need to know so much."

"I'm sure you do," said the man, staring at Mataki in a way that she could not decipher.

"My name is Regan," she began uncertain as to whether she needed an alias, but proceeded anyway. "And Elori Mataki was a dear friend of mine, who passed recently. Your nephew here has been kind enough to tell me some of what had happened to her parents...but I fear that I don't know the entire story."

The elder raised his eyebrows. "And what makes you think I do...?"

He was testing her, she realized suddenly. _He knows_, said a voice. _But how much...? _Two can play at this game.

Her politeness began to dissipate slowly. "Gut instinct."

"Ah. You rely heavily on it, do you?" he asked.

"You could say that."

"I knew a family once. They did the same. And so did their offspring. But you could say it was their downfall."

Mataki narrowed her eyes. "The children or this...instinct?"

"Both."

With that, he turned to where his nephew had been cooking. He called out to him. "Javin, why don't you run out to Helena's and prepare us some fresh fireweed?" He directed his attention back to Mataki. "Fireweed's a delicacy confined to our village only. Perhaps you would like to savour it?"

"How long does it take to prepare?"

"Hours."

Elori smiled knowingly, "Then it'll do just fine."

* * *

They spoke had spoken well into the night – with Javin still away, preoccupied with his task. His uncle, Jodis Kepp, had sat himself on the floor alongside Mataki, and had begun by asking her questions. He had told her that he was no fool, and was aware that her name was not Regan, but there was no need for her to reveal much information in the form of questions. He would find out what he needed through her own.

She had started out with many, the first of which dealing with the identity of the elder man. Mataki was surprised in the fact that he willingly answered much that was asked. She attributed this to the possibility that he could not say much in the presence of his nephew or perhaps he just hadn't had the opportunity to speak with an outsider for a long while. She had asked him if this was so.

"Yes and no. I have spoken with some foreigners – but that was many years ago. And no, that's not why I've morphed into a blabbermouth all of a sudden." He saw her smile and continued on, "You could say that I'm getting eccentric in my old age. Heh. Speaking of idiosyncrasies, you came here with a bucket load of questions about your...friend, and you've danced around that topic ever since. I find it unlikely to believe that I'm the sole object of your attention."

Mataki chuckled and then grew serious. "Let's just attribute this to nervousness, shall we?"

"You're nervous on behalf of your "friend"?" He snorted. "Or does this place hold more of a past for you than it does for her?"

"She's dead." said Elori, with more truth in those words than ever before. Whoever she was before the wars and the battles and the deaths, that was not now who she carried with her. "So, in a sense, yes."

"Then let's cut to the chase, shall we?" The sentence was less of a question than a statement. "This rhetorical nonsense is starting to get to me."

Elori held up her hand, "Wait...I'm here. Do I want to do this?" she asked out loud to no one in particular.

"Of course you do! You need to keep moving in life! You can't hit one obstacle and wallow in it for the remainder of your years!"

"But I could take a different path." she objected.

"Look. You'll just repeat the pattern if you do so. You have regrets, I assume? Yes, we all do. Don't add this on to your list."

"Then tell me. _Tell me everything_." said Elori determinedly. She couldn't stand on the line and unable to choose a side for much longer.

He was detectably surprised that she had been so easily convinced. Perhaps this lay in the fact that he was somewhat reluctant to recite the tale. "Ah. Well. Alright."

* * *

Her parents were not natives of Endor, he had said. They were fleeing from a world they didn't care to discuss, and despite the curiousity of neighbours, they did not breathe a word of their histories. Eventually, talk about the newcomers had died down and everyone settled into the routines of everyday life. Mataki had asked him for their names. _Did it make that much difference now_, he had asked? She had said that it did to her.

She pressed as to what they looked like, starving for something she could ascribe to her origins, to some family likeness, to feel like she belonged to someone. Kepp had told her that she looked very much like her father, and still carried some the weight that he once did. She had nothing in phenotypic likeness to her mother save for her hair perhaps. Did he have any pictures of them? Kepp had shaken his head, no. She appeared satisfied and then continued on with her questions.

Two years after her parents had settled here, some unrest began in the skies above Endor. It was a space battle, and it was truly a grand thing to behold. But it wasn't long before casualties of the sky war fell down to the ground. Some entered Endor's atmosphere like burning meteors and some had managed to deftly maneuver their crafts to land safely. Who these newcomers were, worried them greatly, said Kepp. They sent out a small group of villagers – no more than seven people, and poorly armed – to investigate. Only three returned.

They had been overwhelmed by the foreigners, whose species they were unable to identify. Kepp had thought that they were either mercs or space pirates. The entire village had scattered, hiding amongst the trees, waiting for the impending danger.

Mataki's parents – perhaps having gone through what they had before coming Endor – were dismayed with this new turn in events. They wanted to leave badly, and had begged Kepp's mother, who knew the forest well, to lead them away from the village and to some place safe. She had taken pity on them, and had decided to let them have the last remaining flyer – something she and her husband had built together – to leave Endor for good.

"But they obviously didn't make it. My mother led them as far as she deemed safe, and gave them directions to the flyer. It was dark, and tensions ran high...so I suppose it was understandable that she was reluctant to go with them. She was worried about us – my father and I," explained Kepp, feeling slightly guilty on behalf of his mother. "But she didn't leave them immediately. She followed them a little ways without them knowing. Your parents stumbled into an ambush. Whoever those thugs were...no matter how injured or hurt they were, they were damned proper soldiers. They'd hidden their craft very well. And they had stealth field generators that enabled them to camouflage themselves with the forest – I've never heard of anything like 'em. They'd apparently taken up positions; strategic positions. They...took your father out first."

He watched Elori wince and then continued. "Your mother they tied up and they laid her children before her."

Elori's lips parted, and Kepp looked at her indicating that he could not be interrupted now. "My mother saw this all, you know. It haunted her till the day she died. And it haunts me still, even though I've heard this only once. She couldn't do anything, no weapons, nothing. I think part of her wanted to go back for help, but a larger part of her needed to be close at hand. In case she was given the opportunity to save someone. She stayed hidden for what seemed like a long time, watching those men eat. Your mother was still tied up. One of them picked up the baby by the leg – like it was a dirty rag – and tossed it towards the bushes. Near my mother. She picked it up later, you know, and was terrified that she would be holding a corpse in her hands. But she wasn't. The infant was still alive – unconscious but still alive." He paused and shifted his legs into a more comfortable position.

"What happened..." breathed Elori.

"This isn't an easy story to tell, I can say that much," muttered Kepp. "What happened next was a blur of confusion from my mother's perspective. Another individual was baited into this damned trap, but unlike your parents, he held his own. Perhaps because of who he was."

"Jedi,"

Kepp nodded. "I don't what happened in that battle above, and neither did my mother, but she knew she wasn't just dealing with space pirates anymore. Whatever was going on was of greater importance that any of us could fathom, and it had somehow managed to grace...or curse, in this instance, Endor with its touch. This Jedi was alone, yet he took on his opponents easily – and there were about ten of them. But he wasn't fast enough...I think, yes, this is how my mother told it. One individual was smart enough to see the Jedi for what he was. Protector, defender. He held a blaster to your mother's right temple, and told the Jedi to back off. The Jedi had the other child in his arms by then, but couldn't make it to your mother in time. And he knew it. He felled his opponent closest to him, and watched as the trigger was pulled. He cut the rest of them down mercilessly – and no, don't get me wrong, the devils deserved it – much like they had done to your father."

She couldn't quite find any words.

"I don't know what caused him not to hesitate though...I thought he would have at least tried to prevent your mother's death. Negotiated or something. But I suppose he saw the situation in a different light and did what he considered best. After killing his remaining enemies, he ran. With you in his arms." finished Kepp.

Mataki let out a breath slowly. "What of the other child?"

"My mother took him in. She and my father raised him."

"No, no..." spoke Elori impatiently. "_Where is the child now?"_

Kepp looked down at the bare wooden floor.

"_Javin,"_ she said suddenly, understanding.

Kepp said nothing in response.

* * *

Jaq sat on the cold bench in the equally chilly corridor, staring at the exit, longing to leave. It was funny how this place – this building – could contrast so much with the environment outside. He'd hated Korriban the minute he had laid his eyes on it, and he'd hated this new construction even more. Uthar Wynn had assembled this new section of the Academy only recently, and was extremely proud of his work. Which was more than he could say about his own, thought Jaq.

The two Jedi were in the room at the end of the corridor now. And he could hear them scream. No, screaming wasn't the adjective he'd use. Yelling. Shouting. Groaning. Wailing.

_Feel something, dammit_, said a voice.

_Save them. There's still time for redemption_.

"Oh shut the hell up." he said, aloud, as he chucked his already empty water flask to a side.

"Conversing with some daemons, Jaq?" spoke a violet-hued Twi'lek from the darkness.

Jaq said nothing.

"Oh don't feel so bad, we all face it at one point or another. It's inevitable in the life we face."

He hated her voice. Soothing, conciliatory, but oh-so-fake. "Yeah, well."

"You know something," she spoke, sidling up to him and placing a cold hand on his shoulder. "Tryson in there...he's not doing so great a job." She nodded towards the room at the end of the corridor. "Give him a few more hours and those two Jedi'll be dead. And all your brilliant, hard work will be for nothing."

"As long as I get paid..." started Jaq.

"If it's credits you want, then it's credits you get. You know how well we keep our ends of the bargain."

Boy, did he ever. His ship, his carefree lifestyle, was evidence of it. "Well then, just credit my account and I'll get going."

Her mouth curled into a grin. "Would you like a bonus?"

He gazed back at her, unblinkingly.

"Fifty thousand credits extra." she paused for effect. "And for doing something you'll love, no less. My boy in there – Tryson – I'm going to retire him soon. He's ineffective. You, however, are not. Need I say more?"

Jaq looked at her for a few more seconds and then turned to look at the large door behind which lay his task. He closed his eyes and then opened them.

"Make sure the money's in my account by tomorrow morning." he said before walking down the corridor and away from the exit.


	8. Chapter 8

He wiped the blood off of his arm. Not his blood. He stepped back. The female Jedi had blacked out again. Her ally, however, either had thicker skin or was mentally stronger than he appeared. He stared back at Jaq with passionless eyes. Or so he wanted him to think.

Jaq leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "You aren't fooling anyone. It's only a matter of time." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin and tossed it in the air casually.

"Then kill me."

Jaq laughed. It was a cold, mirthless chuckle that echoed within the confines of the room. "Oh...you aren't getting off _that_ easy. Don't you know why you're here?"

Ben Fria's breathing rate increased. His passion and hatred for _this_...this killer, was seeping through cracks of serenity the Jedi had built for himself. Of course he knew why he was here. And his torturer knew that he knew. But how?

"How?" asked Jaq, leaning forward slightly. "_Open-ended_. I hate that. I hate _you_, Ben. That's what makes this all so easy."

Ben moved his tongue over his cut lip and growled at the other man. "Like I said. Kill me. Kill her. You've proved yourself – you and the rest of the Sith."

"_No_." he smiled.

"Don't you get it, you bastard! Kill us! Do us in! You've won!" shouted Ben.

_You're almost there, kid_, he told himself. _Just keep laying out the bait_. "I haven't won. Not yet. But let's continue this conversation. Now, I remember asking you whether you were aware of the reasons for why you were brought to Korriban,"

"_Conversion,_" spat out Ben.

"Clever lad. But do you know on whose orders you were summoned here?"

"It doesn't make a damned difference to me. One Sith is no different from the other."

"No...I'm afraid it _will_ make a difference to you. And to her."

"Leave her out of this!" yelled Ben.

"Why should I? She's as much a Jedi as you are. And I want her to know as well."

"So what now – you gonna go stuff your face till she wakes up? Take a hot shower? Wipe that blood off your jacket? I'll tell you something, Jaq. You can wash and wash for all it's worth – and you're never going to get one drop off of your soul."

Jaq's smile vanished but not his calm. "You trying to guilt me? Been there. Done that."

"Oh yeah?" smiled Ben, in a manner that unnerved Jaq. "You think guilt goes away with a wave of your hand? It's still there. And you may not feel it right now, but it will come for you, bearing all sorts of weapons. It may not come tonight, or tomorrow, but before you die – I promise you this – you will suffer its fury."

Jaq turned away and started to walk out of the room. "Ah, save it, Preacher."

* * *

"Here, have something to fill your stomach. You must be weary after all that hard work." The Twi'lek gestured for her manservant, awaiting instructions beside the long table, to bring the tray up to Jaq. As he did so, Jaq caught a glimpse of freshly cut fruit adorned with sprigs of mint in a golden bowl. And then his mind's eye brought up Ben's mangled arm, muscles and tissue exposed – a slow, painful torture that Jaq had managed to perfect in the span of two hours.

"Thank you, no. I'm not hungry." said Jaq.

The female Twi'lek cast her eyes down at the ground and spoke. "You've done very well so far. I'm impressed. Now don't let your guilt get you down, you should be proud."

_You think guilt goes away with a wave of your hand?_

"I'm not hungry dammit! What the hell is the matter with everybody – telling me what to do?" yelled Jaq suddenly, surprising the Twi'lek in front of him.

"No one is commanding you here, Jaq. I am just trying to make your stay a comfortable one. It's obvious to me that Korriban upsets you so, and I must do what I can to ease the situation."

"Oh yeah? Since when did you give a damn about anyone?"

A flash of fury shot into her eyes. "Don't evangelize to me, _runt_. You will accept what is being offered to you or suffer it being shoved down your throat." And then the anger washed off her eyes and she was suave again. "Now come, please dine with me, and let us take our minds off unpleasant thoughts."

He moved his hands to allow for the food to be served onto his plate.

* * *

"Ben," she croaked, her voice crackling. She did not sound like she thought she would.

"I'm here," came his voice soothingly from somewhere.

"Ben, I can't see."

He turned his head to look at the stone table where Yustan lay. Both her eyes were swollen, giving an odd appearance to the shape of her forehead. Her beautiful eyes were hidden amidst her injured flesh.

"It's okay. You're alright. You just have a couple...bruises. That's all."

She chuckled and he was surprised, yet happy to hear her laugh. "You were never one for understatement, Ben. I must look down right awful."

"Nothing a few drinks of Juma and some deep sleep couldn't cure," he said.

She felt him smile through his voice. "You think we can get some of that room service soon?"

"I don't think the bellhop has a particularly good reputation."

She tried to shift into a more comfortable position and groaned. "My leg, it burns."

Ben's eyes immediately focused on her leg and quickly shut themselves after taking it in. "Nothing to worry about, kiddo."

"What did they do?" drops of panic fell into her voice.

"Nothing. You're fine."

"How are you? What did they do to you?" asked Yustan, concerned.

"They asked me to re-enact the dance I did for that Hutt on Tatooine. Pure torture, I tell you." he tried to sound cheerful.

"Ben, _please_. Where are we? Who brought us here?"

When Yustan locked onto something she wanted, be it an enemy in space combat or an answer to a single question, she never let go. It was best to give her what she wanted. "Korriban. And our contact...that pilot, or whoever he was, he brought us here."

"On whose orders?"

"I don't know."

"His own?"

"I don't think he's got the gall to run an operation of this sort on his own." muttered Ben. "Besides, this has _Sith_ written all over it."

"Don't underestimate him. We did that before, and now look where we are."

"Utopia?" quipped Ben.

She ignored him. "Something's not right here."

"Really? What tipped you off?" he said, somewhat irritably. The pain in his arm was starting to get to him.

"Men like Jaq, they only serve themselves. No one can own him, because his spirit, as sick as it is, craves freedom and will do anything to get it. He may be working for the Sith, but I don't believe he's been at this...torturing game for a long time. Which leaves us with two guesses. Either he was hired just after he met us or..."

"...he was just a smuggler all along?"

The side of Yustan's mouth curved up into a smile. "Pure genius, Ben."

"Wait, he _was_ a smuggler?" repeated Ben, befuddled.

"He smuggles Jedi. Or he catches them and ships them...I don't know. How else do you think he was able to bait us? That doesn't come easy, you know. He's been doing _this_ for a while." She scowled. "And he fooled us extremely well. He's an actor, our boy. His thoughts were sickening when I tried to read his mind – but he conjured them up deliberately. He was _dissuading_ me, don't you see? He was leading us on making use of our pride. He downplayed himself, allowed us to underestimate him so that he would gain the upper hand."

Ben winced as the throbbing in his arm grew. He kept talking to keep his mind off the pain. "But what good does this information do for us now? Aren't we already caught?" Something heavy was growing on him. Something he didn't quite understand. But he was not worried.

"Caught, but not yet dead. Not yet turned. We have a fighting chance."

"Huh. I don't much feel up to fighting." His voice grew softer. "Or for talking..."

"Ben, _focus_. Talk to me."

He didn't respond.

"Tell me about Tatooine, Ben. Tell me about some of the things that happened there, c'mon."

She grew worried as the silence grew longer. Yustan reached out for Ben's thoughts, his feelings, and felt nothing. Panic. Why wasn't he responding? She couldn't sense his usually high energy flow, and worse yet, it seemed to wane with each passing minute. _Ben_, she called out in her mind? _Come on, buddy, talk to me! This is not happening_.

_No, it is happening and you have to do something about it. _She tried to force her mind to work, increasing the amount of adrenaline that flowed through her blood. Her shackles were made of electro-metal. They could not be snapped or opened without access to a control switch that overrode the power command. Where was the control switch? The last time she saw it...was in Jaq's hand. And he most likely had taken it with him. _Damn!_

Electro-metal.

Electricity. Flow of electrons. Metal. Conductor. Transporter. Transporter of electrons. Interrupt flow. Short circuit.

She shook her head, no. She would get electrocuted. Do we have a choice? Of course we do, she assured herself. We have three. We could shape events allowing us to die. Or we could attempt to escape. Or we could become Sith.

It doesn't take a whole load of brains to tell me what choice will get me the hell away from this death pit.

She felt her way around the room using the Force. She felt the cold stench of the walls, the grains of the mortar holding the large stones in place, and the hooks embedded in certain spots. She shuddered. Feeling her way towards the floor she felt something smooth and soft – cloth – no, that wouldn't do. Her mind went back to the hooks. They were there in order for, she swallowed, victims, and items to be hung from, were they not? Her feelings reached out for them somewhat reluctantly.

There! She felt something. Not sharp, blunt. About a foot long, rod-like, and made of metal. What was it used for? That didn't matter now. It was perfect. Concentrating hard, she felt the rod move slowly and upwards as it slid off the hook and fell with a _chink_ to the floor.

Yustan shifted her focus to the power cables. She sensed that the cables running up to the shackles that held her down were embedded within the stone table she was on. This was going to be tricky. Perhaps there was an exposed spot...? She felt a small surge of power coming from about two feet away from her. The rubber insulation had worn off slightly as part of the cables had not successfully been laid into the room's proper electrical wiring scheme.

_If I get out of this alive, I'll send the electrician a thank-you note_, she told herself.

_Alright, kiddo. This is it. If this doesn't pan out, I'll be watching Korriban from someplace far, far away. So make it work, for Ben. Pain. Hurt. Agony. Love it, and hang on to it tight, because it will let you know you're alive_.

Channeling all her energy into her sole purpose, she picked up the metal rod lying quietly on the floor, and drove it with all her might into the exposed wiring. Clenching her fists together tightly, more to brace herself than due to involuntary muscle contraction, she felt the metal make contact with the electrical wires. Almost immediately, she felt an uncomfortable tickling sensation escalate into searing pain.

"_Alive,_" she grunted, out of necessity, and felt the shackles clack open. The pain did not release her yet. She would have to find the energy to do that herself. With what she thought was her final gulp of air, Yustan heaved herself off the table to land onto the stone cold floor.

She lay there gasping for breath. Feeling the coolness of the floor on her cheeks, she started to laugh.

* * *

Garfey Tam felt his body heat curl up around his head – and the golden armour he was wearing did nothing to alleviate his discomfort. Something must be wrong with the cooling unit on this damned thing. He twisted his body slightly and reached behind him with his left hand, fumbling slightly with the knob. He heard a hiss next to his ear and felt a refreshing stream of cool air wash over his sweat-soaked body. Tam breathed a sigh of relief.

He turned his attention back to the security vids. Everything seemed normal...his eyes routinely scanned each section of the new quadrant, and settled finally on the last screen. He blinked in disbelief.

The second Jedi. The woman. Gone.

_Bloody hell_.

He almost fell backwards trying to get out of his chair. He slammed his fist into a large button on a panel attached to the wall. Almost immediately a loud wail resounded across the entire building.

He jerked open a large locker and grabbed an assault rifle. There was not much time to think. If he didn't get her back, it would be the death of him.

* * *

As soon as she stepped out of the room, Yustan Wes-Tar heard the wailing sirens resonate loudly against her eardrums. Getting the door open was a piece of cake. She was a fool to believe that her escape could be that easy.

She felt her calm waste away slowly. Her leg burned intensely with every movement she made. And on top of it all, she couldn't see a damned thing. That wasn't to say that the swelling was never going to go down – it was, she could feel it – but the only thing she could see was a faint blur at the corners of each eye.

_What you can't see with your eyes, you can with the Force_.

She walked forward slowly. A long corridor, she could feel it. Anyone in here? There...two guards flanking the exit. _Just guards? Not Marauders?_ Okay then. There's a chance we can make this work. You with me, Ben? We can do this.

She paused, remembering.

* * *

As soon as she had gotten up off the floor after breaking free, she had crawled to Ben's side. Using her hands, she had felt for his pulse, and to her simultaneous joy and dismay, she felt it. It was there. But it was weakening. She had run her hand across the contours of his face.

"Get up buddy," she had said.

He had grunted. It was barely audible, but he had responded.

"Let's get you out of here."

Nothing this time. She could feel his eyes flicker behind closed lids though. He was trying to get through to her.

_Talk to me_, she had spoken with her thoughts.

_Yustan?_

_Yes, Ben. I can hear you fine from here._

_I can't move, Yustan. _

_I can carry you._

_No you can't. I can see you. You can't leave here intact with extra baggage._

_Says you._

_I'm dying._

_You're fibbing._

_Yustan. I'm dying. But I'm not gone. Do you understand?_

_You're a liar, Ben Fria. Open your eyes and admit it!_

_I'm free._

_No you're not, you damned fool, you're tied up. They still have us! Wake up! Wake up!_

_They don't have me anymore and they never will. _

_Ben...Ben, no. Don't go. Don't leave me here. Stay..._

_Yustan, listen to me. I'm free. You're not. Leave me now._

_You're just giving up! You're a loser!_

She had heard him laugh. That familiar, beautiful sound. But it was not audible to her ears. And then he had spoken again. _No, I'm not. I didn't lose. I won_.

_Don't leave me here, please._

_I will never leave you._

_I can't leave you here...not with them._

_What they do with my body is no longer my concern. Someone is going to come here, Yustan. And soon. Get out of this room._

_Not without you._

_Are you listening to me, Yustan? I will never leave you._

And then she had bent down, holding her friend close. She had kissed his closed eyes and slowly, reluctantly, stepped away.

* * *

Two guards. What was wrong with this scenario? It was too simple. Her breathing quickened and her muscles tightened. But there was nothing for her to do but walk forward towards the exit. She would be damned if she retreated further into this hell hole.

As she advanced, she ran her left hand slowly along the wall. Seconds later, she felt a tremble. She did not need the Force to tell her that things were spiraling downwards again.

_Well, you can't expect an ace every time, you know_.

Yustan smiled despite herself. No kidding. What now?

_Droids. Heavily armoured_.

Ben?

_Blaster fire. There's no way you can dodge that – Force or no Force. Get yourself a weapon_.

From where?

_Guards are using vibroswords. Droids are moving fast at your three o'clock position down a ramp. They're moving to intercept_.

Right. Got it.

Leaving caution to the wind, she sprinted. She ran flat out, not holding back. The guards were expecting her, and she knew it. She sensed them fan out, and then felt their tense muscles relax slightly. What was going on? Yustan realized suddenly, and smiled inwardly. A blind, injured, hapless prisoner. _I am so glad you jokers call 'em as you seem 'em_.

But they were not completely off guard. They knew Jedi. They just didn't know Yustan. The one on her right snuck up behind her and grabbed her arms. He pulled them back hard and with a jerk. She felt her muscles strain with the pressure. She heard the clatter of footfalls grow louder with each passing second. Droids. How many? Didn't matter. A new sound, from in front of her now, a sound of metal scraping against metal.

"No, you idiot! They'll want her alive!" said the soldier behind her.

A sword being unsheathed. That's what it was. Your sword. I want it.

She leaned back into her captor's body, using him as support. He was taken aback – literally. He had not expected her to fall into him; he had expected restraint in the forward direction. He moved one foot backwards to steady himself and keep hold of his prisoner. That was just was Yustan wanted him to do. She tightened her gut, and kicked out hard with both feet, hoping to get her other opponent in the stomach.

Two seconds later, she heard metal clink loudly onto the floor and echo against the walls.

The sound of the droids. They had stopped.

_Twenty heavily armoured combat droids. Right behind you_.

She let out a breath of air. But she wasn't dismayed. Adrenaline flowed through her veins in waves. She couldn't stop now. The show wasn't over.

"You will lower your weapons and come with us!" rang out a metallic, inhuman voice.

Her captor seemed to heave a sigh of relief. But he had not slackened his hold on her. This bloke would not be easy to shake off. What of the other soldier, she wondered?

_Knocked his head on the door. Temporarily unconscious_.

And the sword?

_Right next to him_.

But the droids...

_You can take 'em. Dance, Yustan_. _Dance like you've never danced before_.

She wrapped her fingers around the soldier's arms and gripped them hard. He seemed surprised. And then, using all her strength, she spun. Around and around, with the soldier still clinging on to her, utterly confused. They looked almost comical, the prisoner and her captor, twirling round in circles.

The confusion spread into the droids processors. She was endangering the life of a Sith soldier, thereby endangering this building and the academy itself. If the target could not be acquired with the mere use of threats, force would be required. Two opposing lines of thoughts intersected each other. Capture prisoner alive. Destroy possible threat. Prisoner appears to possess self-destructive tendencies. Logical deduction: eliminate prisoner before entire facility is taken out. One own casualty was more acceptable than many.

_Here it comes. Stop moving...**now**_.

She stopped. She felt the blaster fire rip through the body of her foe, and winced as she felt his life force melt away. She dropped down to her knees and then lay down flat – feeling the additional weight slide off her – as blaster fire whizzed by. Yustan fumbled around feeling for the sword, felt its hilt and clasped her fingers around it.

A laser bolt grazed her shoulder blade. Her human shield was no longer present. Oblivious to it, she turned quickly onto her back and leapt up onto her feet. From a distance, melee combat was not very effective against blasters. Sooner or later, the blaster would prevail. So there was only one choice.

"Let's get up close and personal, boys," hissed Yustan.

She felt the cold metal of the droid in front of her. She swung her sword – somewhat clumsily – but as hard as she could. Hot sparks showered her face.

One down.

A shot cut into her thigh. She grunted and moved backwards with the blow.

_You are in a corridor. They are coming at you two at a time. Some are crouched down. Some are not. Listen to me as you fight. _

_Left – swing low. Right – swing high in an arc. Move forward. Closer. Aim high. Ignore the pain. Strike left. Parry. Thrust forward, twist your blade... _

And so it went. Until all she could hear were her own ragged gasps. And then all of a sudden, she felt the cuts, the burns. She fell to her knees, still grasping the hilt of her sword.

Not yet, she told herself. The exit was just behind her.

_No._

No?

_This building is on automatic lockdown. You can't get that door open with a permacrete detonator if you had one. Go back. Take the ramp the droids took to get here_.

Go back inside? Are you crazy?

No response. _Alright_, she thought. _Alright. You got me this far_.

* * *

She stumbled up the ramp. Her connection to the Force was diminishing slowly. She had been considerably weakened after her battle with the droids, and could not sense more than a foot in front of her. And what was worse, she couldn't hear him in her head anymore. She simply blundered forward – being forced to take sharp turns as she ran into walls. She was afraid again.

And with fear came loss of the Force.

She held her left hand outstretched in front of her, her right gripping the sword. She ran into another wall. Tears welled up in her eyes.

_Walk four meters forward_.

She almost gasped with relief at the sound of his voice.

_There is a smooth, thick, metal panel to your right. It feels and looks like a light switch. Do not press it. Feel around its edge. Pull_.

She pulled.

_Push the lever inside the panel upwards_.

She pushed.

She heard the grating of something large moving. She tensed.

_Step sideways to your left and walk forward. Then run_.

"A passageway?" she asked aloud.

_Yes. _

"How did you know?"

_There were only Sith soldiers in this building. No droids. The droids came through the escape route._

"Escape route?" she repeated, her hopes soaring.

_Yes. Now, run_.

She ran.

* * *

The passageway was narrow and the ceiling low. She could feel her hair brush against it as she ran. She wondered where this new path led to. Now that there was a bigger chance of escaping alive, several questions whizzed around in her mind. She hadn't seen any soldiers save for the two guarding the exit in the passageway. Where were the others?

_On the second level_, answered her guide, her rescuer. _They anticipated that you would not leave this building the conventional way_.

This passage...where does it lead to?

_Escape. Safety. Don't slow down now_.

At that minute, she felt a gust of air sweep across her face, and warmth – softer and kinder – touch her skin. The sun. She was outside. She stopped in her tracks, turning around slowly, the wind whipping around her.

_There are two Sith fighters here on this rooftop. These are evac vehicles – no launch codes are required. The droids were here to guard them. Get in. You have five minutes_.

She turned her head upwards, and blew a kiss into the sky before running up the small ramp and into the craft. "You really do keep your promises, don't you?" she grinned.

She felt him smile back in return.

* * *

Uthar Wynn's jaw tightened in his fury. He glowered at the soldiers standing in front of him. Yuthura Ban stood to his right. He wanted to ignite his saber then and there and cut every single one of them down. But, no. _Have patience_, he instructed himself. _They are not yours to deal with at the moment_.

In the back of his mind, he felt something trying to justify their mistakes. The building had just been constructed. It was to be expected that security had not yet reached its highest possible standard. And they had only just received their first Jedi. Two demoralized, injured Jedi were hardly a reason to bring out the entire cavalry. And how could they have possibly expected the blasted female to discover their escape route? The building was sealed from within. It was teeming with as many soldiers as deemed necessary – and the current requirement was high. The contingency of escape was fresh in their minds, and all precautions made were thought to be foolproof. But this Jedi, she was no fool. Far from it.

And these imbeciles before him had let her slip through their fingers.

"You have all grieviously erred, and it obvious that you are aware of it." He began to pace. Back and forth. "We were the next installation amongst a list of many that Lord Revan has conceived. We were supposed to be as successful as the rest of them. But not only have we let both our hopefuls get away from our grasp – but we have done so on our first try. If it were me, I would have you executed. Every single one of you." He stopped pacing and looked at them. "But it's not up to me. And do not relieve your anxious souls. This is not a mercy, I assure you. It is still a death sentence, but one worse than what I would have dealt. You will have to answer, not to me, but to Lord Revan himself. As I understand it, he takes the loss of all his potentials _extremely_ personally."

Uthar stepped backwards, inhaling their dread, their fear. He knew it would soon be his fear as well. Revan may not murder them – execution was a blessing – but he would literally engrave reminders of their error into their flesh.

The torturers would soon become the tortured.

* * *

When Yustan woke up, she did so with a frightened jerk. But she was away from that place. She was here, still in the pilot's seat, getting farther and farther from Korriban with each passing minute.

She shook her head briefly in disbelief. Thank you. Thank you.

Her swelling around her eyes had reduced considerably and she could now see much better. _Kolto packs were a blessing_, she thought. She reached forward with her hand, and punched in coordinates in her console.

The Jedi Council on Coruscant would be her automatic choice of destination ten years ago. But she was loyal to Revan now. He had to know of this threat.

"Should anything happen, you will report to me here – at this location. But remember, do not try to reach me if the situation is anything but dire," he had said when he last spoke to them.

She started punching in the last of the coordinates, when she heard him again.

_No, Yustan. There is danger there_.

"You're kidding right? We have to let him know!"

_I do not know the whole story. But I sense treachery_.

"From Revan?" she almost choked.

_Our trust has been misplaced. We cannot turn to the Jedi. We cannot turn to Revan._

She leaned back, frustrated. "Well then, where the devil would you like me to go?"

_I cannot guide you for much longer. But there may be someone who can._

"For pity's sake, tell me where to go, and tell me quickly. If I stumble upon a Republic cruiser while flying _this_ thing, I'll be space dust before I can take my next breath."

_Endor._


	9. Chapter 9

Master Vandar clutched the side of his head as he felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him. He steadied himself using his hand and then used the Force to soothe whatever ill – be it physical or emotional – that plagued his mind. He walked over to the window, hoping to breathe in some fresh air. Vandar saw an unassuming control panel by its side and scowled. There were some, he knew, who were enamoured by technology and who thought very much like the machines they had come to love. He didn't count himself amongst them. _How could I possibly_, he thought? _I can't even get this window to come open_.

He glanced about him to make sure no one was about and then threw his attention back to the panel by the window. _Perhaps...perhaps, I could short-circuit the darned thing. _He smiled mischievously and then started to focus on his new task.

He was more than a little surprised by a voice that came up from behind him. He straightened up considerably and fashioned his expression to that of seriousness.

"Master Vandar, I was told you would be here." spoke the calming voice of a Padawan he knew so well.

He turned to greet her, smiling. "Bastila. Please accept my apologies for leaving the meeting so abruptly."

"No apologies are necessary, Master. I was told that you were feeling somewhat under the weather."

She did not return his smile, he noted. Of that, Vandar was not surprised. With the burden of this new mission at hand, Bastila could not afford to channel her energy elsewhere. He studied her stance, her mannerisms and her face. It had suddenly grown more care-worn, it seemed. And the eyes that looked back at him were more somber than he had seen them in the past. And that was saying something. Bastila Shan had ever-been the serious child. She carried with her that meditative, staid countenance into adulthood. Not to say that that such an outlook on this kind of mission wasn't fitting – it was. It was just that life sometimes did not take to laborious, severe opinions of it well. With or without the Force, life carried with it a multitude of surprises. Dealing with all of them thereby warranted a multitude of responses. There were times when one needed to shoulder a burden with contemplativeness and then there were times when humour eased such a burden.

_Perhaps then, Vandar, instead of criticizing, we could ease...?_ He told himself.

"I needed to escape the confines of this enclave for a bit," began Vandar. "I decided to forage some food for myself from the plains. So I went mushrooming early this morning."

Bastila nodded patiently.

"Without a guidebook," finished Vandar, rubbing his stomach and wincing.

If Bastila found his little adventure humourous, she didn't let it show. Vandar sighed and his ears drooped down slightly. "Do you have any misgivings about this mission, Bastila?"

"Nothing more than the usual, Master Vandar. I have decided not to give in to such apprehensions, lest I allow fear to consume me."

"Good," said Vandar nodding. "But it is alright for you to admit your fears. For in denying them we are simply lying."

She looked at him curiously. "But in permitting their existence aren't we allowing them to rule over us?"

"There is a large difference there, child!" cried Vandar. "By acknowledging them, we find ways to control them – not suppress, _control_. We can find ways, through meditation perhaps, to help alleviate such fears. And thus, by exerting such control, we are now rulers of our own fears."

"But Master," smiled Bastila, finally, "you make it sound so easy."

Vandar nodded sadly. "Easy, it is not. Because this is a core reason for why many of the Order have turned. They cannot control their emotions. Despite them attributing their strengths to the unguarded release of their passions – they do not wield any power over these so-called gifts. _It those very emotions that rule over them._ The Dark Side is easier, yes, but more dangerous to its user. It is a lonely, painful road that its wielders use to achieve their goals."

"I agree, Master." Bastila responded, a pensive look returning to flood her features. "It is good that we aware of such things."

He then turned his back to her, looking out onto the plains of Dantooine. "Do you truly believe this is so?"

Her brows furrowed. "I'm afraid I do not follow you, Master,"

"Do you believe that it is simply because we are aware that we are saved from such a dark path?"

"Well, those who have turned must have forgotten. Through the murders and crimes they have committed, their power has blinded them to the insight they once possessed." she explained.

Vandar turned and shook his head. "Deadened to such perceptions, they are not. At the beginning, it is some past pain that they use to help start them down this dark road. And they reap its benefits without forethought. But what _continues_ to fuel this anger is what we should learn from. Most are well aware of this power dominating them – and they curse such domination, and use the anger generated from it to propel them further down their path. It is truly a sad thing to behold," said Vandar softly, as if he were remembering something vivid, something he endured through choice. "In their hearts, they have been beaten down, shackled, tormented. And one of the few things that bring them pleasure is seeing another reduced to that state. If they can be the ones who bring about such pain, well...then, it is all the better for them."

"Are you saying that there is no choice for them? That once they start down the dark path, it will forever dominate them? For if that is so, then this entire mission is for naught." argued Bastila.

"Who am I to decree that they cannot be redeemed, Bastila? But since you ask for my opinion, I will give it to you. Yes, redemption is free. Salvation is free. It may be harder to come by if you have lived with the darkness in your heart for longer, but it yours to take."

Bastila cast her eyes downwards. "But the problem remains, Master Vandar – will Revan take it? The opportunity is now closer to him than ever."

Vandar walked closer to Bastila and placed his hand on her arm. "When the Council chose you to lead this mission, I believe they chose well. And with their faith in you comes instruction, guidance. But you must also follow your own instinct, Bastila. Circumstances may be so that Revan may choose not to surrender to us. At that very moment in time, it is also likely that all your preparation, your instruction, will fail you," At this Bastila's emotion shone through, and her anxiety was apparent. But Vandar continued on, his tone growing softer. "It is then that you must look within yourself. Draw strength from who you are, all the events that have shaped you...and make a choice."

"And if I make the wrong choice...? It is very likely that if I do, the Republic, not to mention countless other lives, will be paying for my lack of judgment." Her hands had gone cold at the very thought.

"If you make this choice with the innocents you seek to protect in mind, we can ask no more of you. And you can ask no more of yourself."

Bastila exhaled, trying to still her churning thoughts. There was wisdom in Master Vandar's words. She only wished that it was one of them, and not her, leading this mission. They were walking into the jaws of the lion, himself. She was a mere Padawan – a gifted one, true – but there were more suitable trials she could face. Facing the leader of the Sith and attempting to capture him...she could not imagine anything more gargantuan in deed.

Standing in this tranquil room, here on Dantooine, it was difficult to imagine that in less than a few hours she, along with a few other Jedi, would be on their way to face a formidable foe. On Coruscant, where she was first made aware of this whole business and then briefed, reality seemed closer and more threatening. But facing the golden plains of this planet, seeing autumn make its way slowly across the fields, she was reluctant to accept it.

But she knew, somewhere deep within her, that although Dantooine seemed untouched by the claws of the Sith, it would soon be within its grasp. If her mind continued to play truant to these dark events, Dantooine, peaceful Dantooine, would be no more. She could not fail.

She bowed her head and spoke. "Master Vandar, thank you for speaking with me. And your words...comfort me."

Vandar smiled. "Then you must do what must be done. My heart and my thoughts will go with you."

Bastila bowed a second time, and started on her way out.

* * *

Sitting on the wooden floor and enjoying a hot, home-cooked meal. The last time Mataki had eaten like this was on Dagobah. And there, the menu had not deviated often from swamp-bat stew. The fireweed that Javin had brought back was true to its name. It was a mixture of both spices and chili, dissolved in a thick, tomato sauce, that acted as a kind of baste for the fish cooked in it. As a salad, Javin had mixed a green root indigenous to Endor together with a variety of edible mushrooms commonly found growing at the base of the large trees near their village.

Kepp had served their guest first, then Javin and finally himself. They ate first without much talk, and when their hunger had been abated, their voices led each other slowly into conversation. Most of it was dominated by small talk – if it could be referred to as small-talk given the circumstance - which made the now older night more comfortable than it had previously been.

Kepp seemed engrossed in explaining the origins of his village, and Javin joined in enthusiastically. She was grateful to the older man, for not only had he now taken on the role of host, but he was a gracious one at that. He no doubt wanted Mataki to feel comfortable – and what better than to do so than by enjoying a hot meal in his comfortable home? She smiled as she thought of it. There was a soothing sense of normalcy about food, when it was being eaten in pleasant company and without any particular threat looming on the horizon.

She ate her food slowly, listening to fragments of the conversation. Most of the time she was casting glances at Javin, trying to garner from him something she felt was lost to her. She studied his eyes, his lop-sided grin, his hair and his mannerisms. It was the eyes that had struck her even when they had first met, and now she knew why. They were her own. Perhaps not with all the history behind them, and perhaps younger. However, they were her brother's eyes and she found it hard to draw her gaze from them. His attitude now was a far cry from what she had sensed before. Gone was the gruff, mistrustful young man she had encountered. Here was the real Javin, a boyish, mischievous fellow, with a smile that she knew must have stolen more than his fair share of hearts. His brown hair was somewhat unkempt, and he kept brushing it off of his face as he brought his head down and chuckled. Mataki felt the instinctive need to reach out with her hand and sweep it off his eyes herself, but reigned in the instinct. She found herself being drawn to the naïve youthfulness he exerted, knowing that she must have once been like that. She wanted to protect it, conserve it, and fight away any daemons that sought to corrupt it.

The truth was, she loved him.

And it broke her heart, knowing that he had been here, far away from her for all these years, oblivious to his origins, his family, his sister. Perhaps he was better off not knowing. After all, he had been loved and had continued to love and be loved. That much was apparent. It was more than she could have asked for considering what their parents had gone through.

_Her parents_. Mataki admitted, sadly, that she still did not know all there was to know about them. What had driven her parents to flee their homeworld? It was very likely that it was that same fear that gave them the urgency to try to leave Endor when the ships had crashed here. Which would mean that they were somehow linked to the battle that went on in the skies above.

Her thoughts and emotions, together with the rich meal caused her head to grow heavy, and her eyes sleepy. Javin too, was speaking with less vigour, and had positioned himself in a manner conducive to sleep, with his back and head leaning up against the wall, his empty dinner plate lying beside him. Kepp looked in turn at the two, and rose up, smiling.

"Well, I think it's time we all took to our beds for the night, don't you?"

Javin protested. "Oh come on, there's only a few more hours till dawn. What do you say I get some Juri Juice and we make a night of it?"

Kepp scowled. "You have to go hunting tomorrow morning – and you're not going to fare well with no sleep. Remember the meager fare you brought back the last time."

"You hunt?" asked Mataki, raising her eyebrows.

"Sure," said Javin, grinning. "Been doing that since I was a kid."

Kepp rolled his eyes. "Big talk for someone whose best game was a potato root."

Javin looked deflated.

"You hunt for vegetables?" said Mataki, bringing her hand up to her mouth, trying to suppress a smile.

"Hey, it takes talent, you know. Some of the roots and herbs growing here are poisonous. If you don't know what you're looking for, there could be some serious consequences." he said, still partially offended.

"Yes, yes. You are the true hunter and gatherer of our time," spoke Kepp impatiently, tugging at Javin's arm, trying to get him up off the floor. "And you," said Kepp turning to Mataki, "there is nothing dishonourable in learning to forage. You may be well versed in the etiquette of battle, but the prize of survival usually goes to the man who can pit his wits against nature herself, and live."

"Etiquette of battle?" said Javin, suddenly more awake and turning to look at Mataki.

Kepp winced. "Figure of speech." he said both hastily and dismissively. "Now get! Go and prepare my room for our guest, she will be spending the night here with us."

"How long will you be staying?" asked Javin.

Mataki could not tell if he was pleased or unhappy. "Just the night," she said, reluctantly, looking up at Kepp as he spoke.

"Nonsense!" cried Kepp. "You shall stay for as long as you need to."

"I don't wish to impose," she added.

"Think of it as an opportunity for us to become better acquainted," responded Kepp, his eyes going from Mataki to Javin.

"Then I thank you for your offer." she replied softly, trying to conceal her growing happiness.

* * *

She settled into the bed with a contented sigh. The pillows were as soft as she could have imagined, the mattress silently altering itself to suit and support the contours of her body, and the sheets were pulled close about her, trapping the warmth within. She had left the window to the room partially open, allowing for the sweet scent of Endor's night air to waft through, blowing the curtains apart gently. She thought that the air was now especially agreeable – perhaps it was the rain that had made it so. She could smell the fresh scent of wet pine and inhaled it several times, to ensure that it was still there.

Mataki knew that she could not forever beat her troubles away from the door, but for now, as she was in Dagobah, she was content. But, she thought, as she grinned with her eyes closed, she was more than just content. She imagined the days ahead, days that she could spend here with Javin, and shut the door temporarily on her troubled past.

For now, just for now, she could laugh.

* * *

Perhaps it was her mood, but Mataki thought that Endor's weather was far kinder to her on this day. She woke up to see warm shafts of light fall onto her bed, and sat for a while, watching them dance in patterns as the dawn gave way to morning.

"Oh good, you're awake!" cried a voice, as the door was flung open. Javin stood there, already dressed, with a bag slung across his shoulder. "You want to keep me company?" he asked.

Mataki nodded, pulling off the sheets. "Give me a minute to wash up, would you?"

A few minutes later, they had climbed down the trees, and touched their feet on the earthy ground.

Javin reached into his pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. "Let's see now..." he said as he read it. "Helena wants some Friyden, Jonas wants roots of the Yearling plant, some green shoots for Jiph and Uncle wants Queen's Bane. Not bad. I should be done by this afternoon."

"You supply vegetables for the entire village?" questioned Mataki.

"Oh, I'm not the only person." replied Javin as he pocketed the list. "We take turns at doing it."

"And what currency do you get paid in?"

At this, Javin chortled. "Weren't you listening last night? We don't deal with each other in terms of money. Money can be crude as hell, and it's just not done. If all of us do our share for the village, life can be a pretty easy thing."

Mataki pondered this, nodding. It made sense, in fact. Each person taking turns to help one another without any thought towards hoarding wealth, or one-upping...it was something she found difficult to believe. Perhaps it was no commune per se, but this group of people had successfully managed to make it work. But how, she wondered? Most individuals had an innate sense of jealousy – in small or large amounts – and given enough time, it would manifest itself in forms of conflict. She could see how they could survive without such arguments for a short period of time, since all were expected to do towards each other as they would accept someone to do to themselves. But to keep such a community intact for several years?

And then it hit her. Isolation. There were no outsiders, no frequent travelers from without interfering in the goings-on of their small society. No one to tell how it was in the grand old world of the Republic. And for these people, it was better that way. Where their truly hearts lay, she now knew, was in peace and quiet.

A longing stirred in her heart, and she fervently wished that she could have lived this life instead. She knew she would give it all up – the honor, the glory, the medals – if she could only dwell the rest of her life here, with these people and her brother. But that was not to be. And she would have to seize what little remaining peace was offered to her, and be grateful for it.

"You get lost in your own thoughts often?" spoke Javin.

"Well, yes." she admitted. And on second thought, she added, "How can you tell?"

"You were quiet,"

Mataki smiled. "That's not saying much, Javin. Often, I prefer to listen instead."

"To your own thoughts? Not me," he shook his head. "Sometimes they're too loud in my head. I like to hear something real."

"Like the sound of your own voice...?" she teased.

"Har Har." he smiled sarcastically. "No. Sometimes I think I can feel something else functioning in my head – something that's not part of me. And truth is, it can get rather frightening."

They kept walking, coming up a grassy hill. Javin proceeded in front of her, parting fronds of green and brown ferns as he walked. "I...uh...haven't really told anyone about this. I don't really want to become the village idiot – in every sense of the word. So if you could," he paused.

"I won't tell a soul," responded Mataki. She suddenly felt new warmth spread across her heart. She was immensely pleased that he was confiding in her. Then she frowned, thinking. "How long have you felt this way?"

"Oh...for as long as I can remember. It gets stronger when I'm alone. Hang on," he stopped in his tracks, and looked left and right. He then pointed with his finger. "I think we should be able to find some fresh roots that way." They headed right.

"You feel reverberations inside your head? Have these intensities harmed you?" she asked, as they continued walking.

"Never." he stated, resolutely. "If anything, they've kept me safe. But they frighten me. Anything foreign, alien, scares me. And I know it's not normal...I once asked mother," Elori winced as he said this, and Javin continued on, oblivious. "I once asked her whether she felt this way, and she grew upset. She told me never to speak of it again. So I didn't. But I couldn't stop the feelings...the only time they would subside would be if I could be louder than they were. I paid no heed to them and lived my life the way I want to."

"You know, I find it odd...you've referred to this state with two different names. First as thoughts, then as feelings. It seems to me that they do stem from within you."

"And what of it?" snapped Javin suddenly, turning around. His face had darkened, and Mataki was taken aback.

She spoke back defensively. "Hold up a second...you brought this up,"

"And I told you already! These things," he jabbed his finger in the air and pointed at his head, "_Are not part of me! So don't you go spreading rumours that they are!"_

She suddenly lost her patience. "Hey! It's obvious that you're in some kind of denial about this – so don't you go taking it out on me!"

He took a step forward, scowling. "You know what? I knew you were trouble since the moment you set foot here...but I've done nothing but show you courtesy, and so has Uncle Kepp. And this is how you thank us?"

Mataki's jaws tightened and her mind leapt back a step. How had this peaceful little excursion turned into an argument so fast? Was she really overreacting? A small part of her told her that she was, but the other part goaded her into the fight. "You leave Kepp out of this! This is between you and me! I was trying to help you out, and you throw my words back in my face!"

"Maybe I don't want your _words_, maybe I just figured they aren't worth a dime!" he taunted.

So he wouldn't relent either. And then it hit her. This was _normal_. They were having their first fight...as brother and sister. Whether they knew it or not, they had the urge – passed down through millennia of generations – to irritate each other without reason. And that's why it hadn't made sense to her before. She was an abnormally patient individual, in combat and with words. It's what gave her the upper hand in confrontations. But this little blowup was uncalled for on both sides, and it was so surprisingly normal.

But she hadn't really experienced anything like it, so she didn't know how to respond. All she felt like doing was to continue the wordy brawl. She wanted to come out on top, be proved that she was in the right.

"You want a piece of me?" she sneered.

Javin was taken aback. But not so much that she withdrew completely. "I don't fight girls."

The colour rose to her cheeks. "I. Am. Not. A. Girl."

He laughed derisively. "You sure act like one, getting all rattled up about nothing. And like all girls, you don't have the guts to back up your words. You take it as a given that guys aren't going to hurt you, so you can rant and rave all you want."

Mataki looked away and placed her hands on her hips. "Oh this is rich," She dropped her arms to her sides and looked him straight in the eyes. "Alright hotshot, you're on. Pick up that stick."

His mouth parted slightly. "You can't be serious,"

She didn't blink. "What do you think?"

He moved to a side, bent down, and picked up a solid looking branch that had fallen to the ground. He held it tentatively. "What are you going to use?"

"My hands."

"You can't be serious," he repeated.

"Don't hold back."

She advanced, and he held up his stick defensively. She wasn't going to hurt him, of that she was sure of. And she wouldn't use whatever she had left of her connection to the Force. She just wanted to teach him a wee lesson. It made absolutely no sense to her – this behaviour that was so uncharacteristic of her – but she wanted to do it nonetheless. She wanted to win.

And so did he, apparently.

Javin took a swing at her, and she ducked easily. He had thrown his entire weight into that swing, putting his body off balance for that one second. She took immediate advantage of it, and pushed his body in that direction. Javin fell forward, but caught himself with his free hand. He stepped back a few feet, taking her in...taking her seriously.

"Alright. You asked for it!" he shouted.

He charged forward, brandishing the stick in front of him. She feigned left, and he swung the branch her way hoping to at least deal her a small blow. He missed, however, as she dodged right hoping to throw him off balance again. But Javin didn't take the bait a second time, and steadied himself with both his legs. Mataki noticed this and smiled, she couldn't help but feel a little proud of him despite the circumstances. The boy was learning on his feet. Suddenly she felt a heavy blow to her side – he'd taken advantage of her momentary inattentiveness – and she bent down slightly, but didn't buckle. He didn't wait to strike again, but this time she brought up her left forearm to shield her head from the hit.

Javing was shocked. He'd put a lot of his strength into that shot, and she held her own...it was almost as if she had absorbed the blow. He grew irritated and swung again, noticing that she didn't move away or move to strike. She simply dodged or blocked his blows. And her face! It wasn't flushed or angry as his was. It was unreadable!

She felt calm, but felt her calmness stem from within her...not from the Force. Wherever the Force was, she was now completely aware that it was not with her. And although this loss pained her, she removed it from her mind, allowing for something else – something she didn't know she had – to replace it. Her frustration and anger with Javin dissipated. This meaningless urge to display her power was ridiculous. And now she wanted nothing more than to get it over with. And soon. She suddenly grabbed the branch as it cut through the air towards her, and wrenched it out of his grip. He was jerked off his feet for a split second – standing on the tips of his toes – when she kicked out with her left foot and knocked him down.

Javin fell, and with it, so did his pride. His anger had vanished, and he felt ashamed. More out of necessity to do something, he too kicked out with his foot while lying on his back and accidentally caught Mataki off guard. Next thing he knew, she had slipped on a patch of mud near them and had fallen to the ground.

Muddy and out of breath...and finally ready to accept defeat, Javin laughed. "Okay," he chuckled. "You won! But I'll tell you this...you don't look much better for it!"

Mataki chided herself for allowing herself to be put in this position. She stared up at the humongous trees, watching the sun stream down through the pine needles. And laughed in turn. When she was done, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked at her brother. "Now what?"

He sat still for a second and thought. "I feel pretty stupid."

"You look pretty stupid," she retorted, stifling a grin.

"I didn't mean all those things I said...I honestly don't know what came over me. I can –"

Mataki shook her head. "Apologies are not necessary. I believe I said a couple things back there I didn't mean, so that makes us about...square."

He rose to his feet and offered his hand to Mataki, who was still on the forest floor. "Friends?"

She took it warmly, and allowed for herself to be pulled up to her feet. "Always." she replied.

"Now that's what I like to hear. You up for some mushrooming?"


	10. Chapter 10

Night had finally graced Korriban with its presence, easing the heat off of its inhabitants. But it replaced the frizzled surface of the planet with an eerie chill. To those unfamiliar with Korriban, the coolness of the night would be a welcome change from the relentless scourge of the sun, but to most, the coldness reflected the essence of the nature of the Sith. A blatant disregard for all its counterparts. Whatever mercies it seemed to hand out...were merely coincidences. If it could help it, no one would be spared save itself. And those who knew Korriban, knew this well.

Sith patrols often turned up the thermostat inside their suits as they went on their rounds, leaving nothing to chance. They were increasingly on edge now – given the recent catastrophe involving the escape of one of Master Uthar's prisoners. Most of the guards and soldiers were not informed directly of the goings-on of this new section to the academy, but through rumour and simple word-of-mouth, they caught on. It was a conversion factory. And a mighty important one at that. Revan himself had been involved with the beginnings of construction, and it was said that he had even informed Master Uthar personally as to the details of the architectural plans. But then, if such a mission was so important to him, if reaching his goal was so imperative, failure would be something he would not react lightly to.

And that was a gross understatement.

But there was not much else to do but to continue. Routine rounds had to be made, reports had to be filed, and life in the Academy had to go on as usual. To the doubtful Sith there was always the option to leave, but to most who were caught in the act of abandoning their way of life, swift punishment was dealt. So a careful, well-weighted decision had to be made. And those who chose to leave were often at their wits end that either disregarded death as punishment or sought it as a means of escape.

Jaq sat atop of the rock, watching the moon patrol Korriban with its light and shook his head. He didn't fit either category. He scratched the side of his nose thoughtfully. He wasn't even Sith. Sure, they might think he was now their property, but he had notions of his own. He had a mind of his own and it sure as hell wasn't Sith.

Jaq brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them for warmth. But then, where did he stand? His work, his sickening profession, benefited no one but the Sith. He was a means to an end...he served their purpose and therefore, served them. It was a logical deduction and yet it didn't fit. He didn't fit. He was in limbo.

It was not an unfamiliar feeling and he battled with it constantly. Some days he could drink himself into a stupour and rid himself of this beast. Other days he could let it loose on his prey – the Jedi he was paid to retrieve, satiating its hunger. But freedom from it was only temporary and sooner or later, it caught up with him. It was at his door now, he knew, and through his diseased, yet strong spirit, he kept it at bay.

His eyes were red-rimmed with lack of sleep. He was not afraid of retribution. He'd expected it for three days now. He anticipated both Yuthura Ban and his Sithfulness, Uthar himself, to stride into his pitiful lodgings, drag him from his bunk and inflict excruciating forms of torture on his body. But no action had been taken. Jaq smiled. All the better for him, he supposed. Yuthura had not even hinted at the thought of punishment, she had been brusque when it came to matters of payment for his troubles, but that had been about it. _How un-Sith-like of her,_ thought Jaq. Perhaps punishment would have been fitting. _We could focus on something tangible...something our nerves could experience instead of fighting something elusive. How perfectly morbid of us – to want the soul to match the body_.

The beast was scratching at the door now.

Oh God, he would do anything for a decent night's sleep. He didn't need dreams. He simply wanted to fall into the comfort of unconsciousness for a while. He wanted to lie in a bed without fear. Without the fear of anticipating retribution. Not from those of the living, but from those of the dead. He had killed many, and most of them had died at his hands through ignoble means. He was not a warrior, he was no hero. He fought without honour and through some inherent sadism, it gratified him. It fueled him and it consumed him.

He heard the door giving way now. Soon it would be in, and they would confront each other again. Perhaps not tonight, but soon.

Jaq shut his eyes tight and began to cry.

* * *

Mataki awoke with a start. Tensing her muscles, she listened carefully to the sounds of the night, ready to move if she heard anything out of the ordinary. But there was nothing there, save for the steady croaks of the frogs, chirping crickets and the occasional hoot of a nocturnal bird.

_Javin_, she thought hurriedly.

She swung her legs off the bed and strode quickly, but silently into his bedroom. She peered into it and saw his shape underneath the covers. Scrutinizing the dozing form carefully, she saw his chest rise and fall with the sweet, slow rhythm of sleep. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, Mataki backed out and retreated to her own room.

Is this how mothers are, she wondered? Did their inbuilt alarm systems become triggered if their loved ones were in harm's way? Maybe that was what had happened that night. Mother must have carried Javin, Father must have held me, and they ran like they had never run before.

Or had they?

_You were running from something before you came to Endor, Mama. What was it? Who was it who put such fear in your heart? I wish I knew_.

She fell softly back onto the bed, and sunk her head into the pillow, dismissing her questions only to greet the arrival of sleep.

* * *

He awoke to sunlight, and for the first time in a long time, it seemed kind. He had curled himself up into a ball, with his jacket wrapped around him. He peeked out with one eye to see the sun rising over a ridge ahead of him. It was a warming, beautiful feeling. He knew it wouldn't last for very long, the heat would eventually take over everything...but he wanted to enjoy this moment and make it stretch out for as long as he could.

Jaq unwound himself from his jacket and propped himself up, feeling the day's first rays of sun glide across his cheek. He wished sunlight could be solid, and he wished it was a hand instead, a hand that belonged to someone living, someone living with a voice who could tell him that he could start afresh. That the slate would be wiped clean and he could take his first steps of as a new person.

His heart lurched downwards sickeningly and despairingly. It couldn't be. There was far too much baggage that contained the souls of the dead. They would have to forgive him first and that was an impossible task.

He wiped what little sleep he had out of his eyes and looked about him. A guard on patrol walked below him noiselessly. He was knew perfectly well that the guard was aware of his presence, but as he had permission and the authority to go about the Sith grounds, he would not be challenged.

Jaq gave out a sharp whistle.

The guard immediately tensed and pointed his weapon in the direction of the sound.

Jaq held up his hands in a passive expression. "Hey! Let's not get trigger happy, alright?"

The guard snorted and put down his weapon. Speaking with must have been a snarl behind that metallic mask, he said "Don't waste my time, you drunkard!"

Jaq pointed at himself with a mocking _who, me?_ gesture and smiled. "How's the weather back at the chateau, old boy?"

"I don't have the time to exchange words with the likes of yourself, so say what you've got to say and let me get on with my rounds."

_Geez, Sith these days_...thought Jaq. Alright then. If soldier fluff wanted to skip the niceties, the least he could do was to return the favour. "When's Revan going to hit this joint and turn you lot into mincemeat?"

Jaq had to suppress a smile as he felt the guard tense up.

"I am not made privy to such information," replied the guard curtly. And then both as an afterthought and for recovery's sake; "And who the heck might you be? What's your rank?"

"You mean you don't know who I am? I'm shocked. I really am. Why don't you go ask Yuthura? She'll be sure to tell ya." This was probably very stupid on his part. He didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to himself, from this geezer or from Yuthura. But he'd hope taking the gamble on mentioning Yuthura's name would cause him to back off.

The gamble worked. The guard waved a dismissive hand in the air and walked off.

Jaq shook his head and breathed out. It was too early in the day. That was what made him slow. What could he possibly have gained by asking what he did? Revan wouldn't announce his arrival to Uthar himself, let alone the guards. That just wasn't his style.

_My style, however_, thought Jaq, _is shoot and go_. Things had been heating up for a while now, but that had suddenly come to a dramatic halt. What took its place, though, was an uneasy silence that had begun to pack all the tension into a tight little ball. This was the infamous calm-before-the-storm scenario and he knew it well. It was his emergency exit and would probably be the last one offered to him before this gale swung into full force.

He got up onto his feet and dusted the sand off his shirt, jacket and pants.

It was time to wave adieu to Korriban.

* * *

He strode with an air of relaxed calm into the small hangar. The first thing he noticed was that the force fields had been turned off. He'd have thought that security would be max right about now. The second thing that got his alarm bells ringing was the absence of guards in the hangar. Breathing a little faster but still maintaining his casual pace, he stepped into the large open space where visiting ships were docked and looked about him. He saw the other ships clear as day, but his was gone. His eyes darted back and forth, double-checking and triple-checking...

He stared in disbelief. And then ran his tongue over his lower lip in angry realization. His ship was gone. Why would they do that? To keep him here. And why would they do _that?_

Well, this explained the absence of punishment, hostilities and such. If they were going down, they would do what they could to take him with them. After all, he was the last one to see the two Jedi, wasn't he? But the questioned remained. Whose brilliant idea was this? Uthar? Yuthura Ban's?

Probably the latter's. The former didn't seem to hold Jaq in as high regard as Yuthura did. And Yuthura would be damned if she was solely going to pay for her choices.

The gears spun rapidly in his head. She was a smart woman. So it was time to think hard and fast. She would expect him to go speak to the soldiers involved in docking procedures. Perhaps they would direct his questions to her, and she would personally have the pleasure of telling him how he would have to wait for Revan, patiently and fearfully, just like the rest of them. Of course, she would conveniently leave out the term: scapegoat.

"_No way, baby_." he said out loud. "No chance in _hell._"

What he needed now was leverage. A hostage? No. The Sith were not known for mercy. If this was the Republic he was dealing with, then yes. What else was there? He needed something to hold Yuthura at bay, while he got access to his ship, and flew the heck away from Korriban.

As quick as his mind worked, nothing sprung to mind. For a wild moment he considered threatening Master Uthar himself, but with the entire Academy and Monastery on edge...that would prove a fatal move. He stuck his hand in his pocket morosely. He felt something with somewhat sharp edges, something metal. His comm. link. He pulled it out slowly. He looked up ahead of him and grinned.

He punched in his contact numbers, and waited. He sat down just outside the hangar, with his chin tucked in his hand, whilst he drummed the fingers of the other hand against his legs.

Ten agonizing minutes later, the comm. link beeped.

With a lightning-like move, he held it up to his mouth. "Ges?"

A sultry female-sounding voice emanated from the device. "Ges is...busy."

He snarled into the comm. link. "Tell him to get his sorry head out of his ass and put him on."

She was not put off. "I'm sorry, _who_ are you?"

"Sith."

He heard a rustle on the other end, and a more familiar voice croaked out. "Yes...?"

"Cool it. It's me, Jaq. I need information on someone."

"Jaq! My God, I haven't heard from you in ages! Why did you say "Sith"? You scared Jianna shitless. And where the hell are you!"

He stifled his impatience. "Don't ask me questions. I promise I will give you every gory detail if I get out of this alive. I'm on Korriban."

"Korri – !" yelled back Ges, and then more quietly, "Korriban? How?"

"No questions, Ges. Just tell me what you have on a Yuthura Ban."

A beat.

"Never heard of her."

"Cut out this bullshit and tell me."

"Why? Why is this so important? What's going on?"

_Didn't he get it? Didn't he understand the urgency here? _"Ges, _please_. I need whatever you have on her, and I need it fast. Now I know you're lying. You know exactly who she is. You have her history hidden in those files of yours. I'm in pretty deep here. _Please_."

He didn't know whether it was his voice or choice of words that did it. Ges relented, and gave way to some ground. "Do _you_ know who she is? I can't just give you data on a whim...especially someone like this. We all report back to someone, you know."

"You wanna know then?" he sneered, "All right. You report to someone, Yuthura reports to someone. Her someone happens to be Uthar Wynn. His someone happens to be Revan. And somewhere underneath this entire sickening mess, I happen to have sprouted. Under normal circumstances, no one would give a damn about me because that's how I play the game. But I slipped. And I'm going to take the fall for part of it. If I was playing against the Republic – no biggie. But I'm not, am I?" His voice had reached a pitch he never knew it could attain. Did he sound panicked? He breathed in deep, and tried to keep a steady pace. "I'm little game to them, Ges. To gun me down is nothing. To me, however, it's a different picture."

"Oh."

"Get over to your console and pull her file up."

"Okay."

Jaq heard a shuffling sound, Jianna's voice in the background followed by an irritated yell on Ges' part and then a slam. Then Ges again, speaking to him this time. "Yuthura's an ex-Jedi."

"I need more than that."

"Hang on, hang on...I can only read so fast, you know?"

"Look at this, she was a slave on Sleyheyron once. Broke free and became a Jedi, left the Jedi, and became Sith. Relatives include one sister – several years younger, parents unknown –"

"Where's this sister?"

"On Coruscant. Well whaddaya know, she's Jedi too."

Jaq froze, but suppressing his rising hopes. "Is she aware of this?"

"What do you mean?"

A plan, a story of some-sort was taking shape in his mind, and he hurried to put it all together in time. "Communication. Did they ever speak to each other?"

"Looks like it...I don't know what they said to each other, but the last _known_ communication they had was...three weeks ago. Whoever's assigned to cover her has got only this much. I'm sorry, Jaq, that's it."

_The idiot sounded apologetic_, thought Jaq almost ecstatically. _I just might have enough to break out of this with my bones intact_. "That's brilliant! Now get me a file transfer to my datapad."

"Ohh no."

"_Ohh yes_."

"Look, I have the authority to view this stuff, but letting it out in the open..."

"...could save my life."

"Or I could lose mine."

"Transfer the file. Destroy your console, grab what you need and lay low for a while. You've done it before. You have places to go. Options. I don't."

"If I see you, I'm going to kill you myself," muttered Ges.

Jaq grabbed his datapad from inside of his jacket. It began to beep, indicating that a file transfer was in process. "Let's hope you get the opportunity to do so. Thanks. I mean it."

Ges snorted. "Look, don't try to contact me for a while, okay? I'm going to be watched, including all my outgoing communications."

"Got it. Good luck."

"You too."

* * *

She was easier to find than he had anticipated. She wasn't even holed up in her chambers, working on...whatever it was she worked on. He'd gone back to his room before, grabbed the essentials and left the rest behind. He didn't want anyone to think he was planning on fleeing the coop so soon.

Jaq always carried two blasters. One tucked neatly in a holster where most save the utterly unobservant could see, and the other in separate pieces shoved into a thermos, a broken datapad and an old sonic sensor. He left his "display" blaster in his duffel bag and put together his backup, tucking it neatly under the sleeve near his forearm. It was a small fellow, but effective. And that was all he needed. Under the sleeve of his opposite arm, he strapped in the vial he had used on those damned Jedi earlier. Not too much juice left in that one. He'd have to use it as a last resort.

He sighed. Last resorts were becoming too common these days. Whatever happened to careful and discreet?

_Gone out the window_, he told himself. _Now's the time for improvisation. Let's show the world what an innovative lad you can be_.

As he walked closer to Yuthura, he saw her turn slowly, and smile, acknowledging his presence.

_What's this_, he thought? _I though you didn't have time for me after your little calamity. Could it be that you know that I know...? God, let's not get all jittery_. _Calm down, you idiot. Think straight_. _Maybe, just maybe, we may not need to switch to plan B_.

"Jaq, what a pleasant surprise. I've just finished meditating. What brings you here? Is it a matter of payment? I told you before, only half of what we promised you would be delivered to your account. That was the deal."

"Yuthura, where' my ship?" he asked slowly, pleasantly.

She touched her chest lightly, feigning ignorance. "How would I know?"

"I assumed you knew what went on in your Academy. You seem to be highly regarded here. Next to Uthar, that is."

"True, I suppose. But as for your ship...I don't know where it is."

"I need to leave Korriban. Perhaps you could provide me with another means of transport."

Her eyes flashed. "I couldn't do that."

"And why not?"

"I...don't want to." she answered, satisfied with her reasoning.

"Ah. You're taking me down too, is that it?"

She grinned. "It would give me great satisfaction."

"I can see your point," he nodded slowly, smiling.

The smile threw her off slightly. Her eyes darted back and forth, she was thinking. "What do you mean...?"

"Retribution is inevitable, isn't that what Uthar said? That's what you Sith are all about. I've picked up a thing or two here."

"What are you doing?" she asked, smiling uncertainly.

_At least I have the old schutta on her toes_. "I'm double-crossing the double-crosser."

She twisted her face as if to insinuate that he was bluffing.

"You wanna call it?" he asked.

"You dare to –"

_Quit stalling_, said a voice. _You're in a Sith-invested hive. You can banter with words another day. Play your cards, sonny_.

"Celia." he said slowly, allowing for the full effect of the name to take its hold over her.

She froze.

This was the break he needed. He grabbed the moment and jumped forward, and jabbed the needle into her neck. He pushed down slightly – if she got the full dose, his cards would prove useless. He pulled her close to him and spoke softly in her ear. "If you raise the alarm, Uthar will know. If you use any mind tricks on me, Uthar will know. And if he knows...she will die."

"_How_...?" she managed gasped out.

"Does it matter?"

"Killing me won't get...you...out," she moaned.

The toxins were pulsing through now. He knew that she was under considerable pain. He only hoped that her training would enable her to remain conscious. "You're not going to die...yet. You'll live long enough to ensure her survival."

"_I'll kill you_," she hissed.

"Listen sister, I know I'll have to die someday. But I'll be damned if it's through anything but old age...or directly through my own hand. You know I won't hesitate to kill you if I knew it would get me out. You know I don't give a damn about Celia. I'm not Republic. She could be burned alive for all I care." He paused, feeling her wince. "But she's my bargaining chip. If you let me out of here alive, I give you my word that she'll stay safe."

"Liar,"

"You spoke with her about...three weeks ago. Do you have any idea of what Uthar would do if he heard about this? One of his own turned traitor? Now I know you don't really fear your own death...but Celia's, that's another story isn't it?"

"I didn't turn traitor...and Celia...don't hurt."

"Stand up properly, come on." He propped her up against the wall and looked at her. She slumped forward but did not fall. "Now look at me." He lifted up her chin, meeting her gaze. "Be a smart girl. What do you honestly think Uthar is going to believe? This is far too convenient a situation for you to be anything but a traitor. That Jedi escaped about two weeks back. You spoke with your sister a week earlier. Do you catch my drift?"

"Not traitor. Not Celia."

"Honey, I don't care if you are or if you aren't." He slapped her face gently, to stop her from losing consciousness. "I'm going to ask you one important question. And I'm only going to ask you this once. Do you want to save your sister?"

She nodded, yes, her eyes looking pleadingly at him...either from the pain or concern.

"Good. Then you'll take me to your own private ship. You'll get me off of Korriban on it. I'll get on board, and leave this system for good. You will not send fighters after me. I have a failsafe. If I die, she dies. I'm the only one who has the codes to stop Uthar from receiving this information – and believe me – it's from a very reliable source." He winked.

She stood up straighter, apparently mustering whatever strength she had.

"Can you walk?" he asked. "On your own, that is."

"I can...torture you for the codes..."

"Do you honestly think I'll talk? I wouldn't give you the satisfaction. If I die, the only hope I have left is picturing you seeing the body of your dead sister. Now. _Can you walk?_"

"Yes."

* * *

They passed several corridors without calling too much attention to themselves. Yuthura's comm. link beeped twice, and twice, Jaq looked at her, warningly. She was not to speak to anyone without his permission. He'd felt her try to get into his mind a couple times, but they were feeble attempts, and he did not have to do make much of an effort to keep her out of it.

At certain points of this little walk, he would allow Yuthura to step ahead of him, as if she was leading him and not the other way around. It avoided unnecessary suspicion, especially around the patrolling guards. He studied her intently, alert to the slightest form of betrayal. But the toxin was doing its job well. He was equally impressed at how well she was holding up. Her sister must mean something to her. He wouldn't have expected that – not from a Sith. Thank goodness for that flickering flame of love within her, eh? What good luck it had brought him.

His suppressed conscience made a feeble attempt to resurface but he sat hard on it. _Not now. I'll let you eat me later. I promise_.

They stopped walking, and Yuthura walked over to a panel next to a large door. She was about to punch in something, when he quickly strode up to her. "I trust you're going to enter the code that gets this hangar open. If this door doesn't open as soon as you do so, you know what kind of happy ending'll follow."

She closed her eyes momentarily. Her fingers pressed buttons slowly. The doors parted. He saw the ship before them and smiled. She was beautiful. And probably equipped with stealth settings, laser turrets...the works.

"Now get in that damned cockpit." he said.

"_Not going with you_." she mumbled.

"Of course not," he rolled his eyes. "That console in there is locked. I'm not an idiot. Unlock it for me and you've done your part. Alright?"

Yuthura was barely keeping it together. She stumbled up the entry ramp, and sunk into the pilot's seat. She did was what necessary, all the while under his eye, and leaned back.

He nodded, satisfied. "You can go."

"And Celia?"

"Hey, I'm not Sith. If you keep your end of the deal, I'll keep mine."

She staggered out. He watched as she did so from the window for a few seconds. Jaq warmed up the engines, and leaned into the seat as the ship began to lift off the ground. He happened to look out the window again and saw Yuthura's form, unmoving, lie lifeless on the ground below him.


	11. Chapter 11

_Endor, my ass_, thought Yustan Wes-Tar as she punched in her coordinates for that particular hyperspace route. She glowered and stared miserably at the black reach of space before her. She would much rather have gone directly to Revan for help – this detour seemed unnecessary and the delay could cost the Republic so much more. She bit her lip in worry. The Republic...and hence, democracy itself was walking with the aid of crutches. Should a new enemy rear its head and attack, there was no telling how hard the Republic would fall, for fall it would. And then from where would deliverance come? The Jedi?

They had been far too slow to respond the last time. Perhaps, in this instance they would be quicker. But that was quite a supposition and since a lot rode on a preemptive attack, they could not solely depend on the mere possibility that the Jedi would lend a helping hand. Therefore, going to Revan seemed to be the most logical move. He had brought forth a tremendous and powerful army to come to the Republic's aid during the Mandalorian Wars, and she had no doubt that he would do the same for this emerging threat. Ben's doubts were surely misplaced.

Or were they?

Her thoughts meandered towards Ben. Had he become one with the Force, or was he in some state of transition? Yustan was perplexed as to this new turn of events, but simultaneously did not seem too enthused in pursuing an answer. She was just grateful that he had been with her when she needed it.

And _boy_, had she needed it. Yustan refused to focus on the details, but needed something to direct her anger at. With a touch of nostalgia, she suddenly remembered the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Apprentices, Padawans and sometimes even the Jedi Masters themselves, often sought solace and rejuvenation in the Healing Chambers within the Temple after traumatic missions. These chambers were not intended to heal physical wounds, but emotional ones. She smiled as she remembered Master Roteru Wei – who was placed in charge of meditation within these chambers – spend all of her efforts in healing the minds of those affected by the wounds of battle. But focusing on anger as a temporary means of release, as she was doing, was not Master Wei's practice of healing.

But she was no longer part of the Jedi Order, and the luxury of the Healing Chambers would be something she would have to do without. _But it sure would be nice_, she thought wistfully. But she did not have much time to dwell in her reverie.

A blue light blinked on her cockpit console followed by a soft beeping. She was about to enter hyperspace.

_Ben, I sure as hell hope you know what you're doing_.

* * *

"So you can't say anything about where you before?" asked Javin, as he sat opposite her on the bed.

Avoiding his gaze Mataki said, "Not right now...well, not...I don't know. I don't quite know where I am right now. We could give it a name if we want. "Crossroads", "transition", "limbo"...it doesn't make any difference. But it's there. And I've got a feeling this could be heading towards a good light, although I'd rather be sure before I tell you about my entire sordid past."

"Ah. That bad, eh?"

She chuckled and grinned sheepishly.

"I thought you trusted me." he said, cocking his head to one side.

"I do," and then on seeing his doubtful expression, "_I do_. I don't want my careless words to put you or Kepp in jeopardy. That's all."

"That's all? _That's all?_ If simple words can get my uncle and me in hot water, then you must've come out of a sauna. Try to take this in from my perspective. You show up out of nowhere, claiming a connection to one of the villagers here, ask an endless barrage of questions and decide to shack up with my uncle and me for heaven knows how long and then not provide any answers? Trust me, it can be a _tad_ frustrating."

"I don't exactly know what I should imply from that comment..." mused Mataki as she scratched behind her ear. "But yes, I do see your point."

"And...?"

She studied him thoughtfully. Their relationship was strange indeed. It amazed her how they could become friends, then fight like animals, reconcile and then suddenly sit down to a civilized discussion without any animosity whatsoever. Perhaps this pattern was comprised of a certain amount of logic, but she had never encountered anything like it before in her life.

"And I still maintain my position."

"You're a stubborn ass." he said, without anger in his voice.

"You're a persistent mule." she retorted, equally calmly.

"Have we reached a stalemate?" he asked.

"I detest stalemates."

"So do I."

"So I guess the only way we avoid this scenario is if – "

"– one of us gives some ground." finished Javin.

"How about some exchange of information, then?"

"What could _I_ possibly tell _you_?" exclaimed Javin.

She grinned wickedly at him. "Let's talk about your "voices"."

"Ohhh...no. No, no." he shook his head in protest. "And it's not something you should make fun of, at that."

"I'm not making fun. I simply thought that I would approach the subject lightheartedly. Given your reaction to it the last time..."

He sighed. "Was I that bad? Oh, I suppose I was. It's just a touchy subject with me. But since we've already breached the gates, why not have a good old romp throughout the territory?" Javin said sarcastically. He then paused, narrowing his eyes. "This...give and take of info, it'll work both ways you say?"

Mataki held her breath. She was about to enter dangerous waters here. What if he reacted with hostility to who she was? Perhaps it would not enter his head to ask her if she was his sister, but a host of questions could eventually lead down that road. And then there was this issue with the Jedi that he seemed to have. Maybe he'd reconcile with that aspect of her past if she told him that she had been expelled from the Order. In short, there were a lot of "what ifs"...and frankly, she did not want to deal with uncertainties. _Right then, let's get this over with_.

"Deal."

"Are you a Jedi?" he blatantly asked.

She raised her eyebrows with a little bit of shock. Subtleties in his questions, there were not. "I was."

Javin did not appear to be surprised by this news. "When did you leave and why?"

"I left..." she put her hand to her mouth as if to clear her throat, trying fruitlessly to buy time to steer around his questions, "...a while ago. And I was exiled from the Jedi Order."

"_Exiled_?" he repeated. "Why?"

"My turn," she threw in. "You can perceive your environment clearly, at times more clearly than others. Do you have any inclination as to why this is?"

"Yes." His mouth tightened; it was obvious that the reason perturbed him. "I'm Force sensitive."

"I have reason to believe that it's more than that. If the Jedi had found you at a younger age, it's very likely that they would have taken you in for training."

"Is that what you're going to do?"

She shook her head. "I'm not a Jedi, I told you. Plus I wouldn't train you even if you wanted me to."

"Why not?"

"Let's just say it's not too safe these days," she muttered, barely audible. Her mind momentarily drifted back to her encounter with Revan.

"Why were you exiled?"

"I fought in the Mandalorian Wars. The Jedi Council did not approve."

"You fought alongside Revan...?"

She flinched at the mention of the name. "You could say that."

"...as did your friend who died, I suppose." finished Javin.

She looked intently at his eyes. She wasn't sure whether he'd completely taken in that story as fact or fiction. She swallowed. This little game of questions was taking a tense turn and it was her turn to fire the turrets. She needed to see if he had any recollection of his parents..._their_ parents. "What was your mother like?"

He looked at her strangely. Mataki chastised herself for opening with something so blunt. The boy wasn't dense, and he would wonder why she chose the question that she did. Would he use it to his advantage, she asked herself? "She was...much older than myself. Well, enough to be my grandmother, if you look at it that way. She was terrific with making her way around the forest – a good scout. She was tall, very pretty...and kind."

Mataki shook her head: it was obvious that he thought of Kepp's mother as his own. He didn't seem to remember much regarding the events that separated him from his true parents. "Why didn't she want to talk about you being Force sensitive?"

"Presumably because of what the Jedi did from before. You know, taking that child away. Your friend. It wasn't right to take someone away from their family. Not at that age."

"Is that why you don't acknowledge these feelings? Because you share her hatred?"

"_Whoa boy_." he breathed out. "When we agreed to this, I didn't know how hard it would be to pour out my soul. I...I think I kinda see where you're coming from. I mean, I see why you were reluctant before."

Mataki jumped at the opportunity. "We can stop now, if you'd like. Take this up later...or not."

He leaned forward and met her gaze, looking earnestly into her eyes. She tried to pull away, but couldn't, he was part of her...part of her mother and father. And he too, was filled with some unidentifiable pain. Being Force sensitive could possibly amplify it, and he was undoubtedly driven to seek answers to quell his distress. "I feel like...like I should know you. And that you know something that you keep holding back. I could ask you what that is...but if I do...I'll be changed. I don't know if I'm ready. I'm afraid."

_You are my brother, Javin. You are my brother_... "Then perhaps you should wait," she said instead. "You have a life here with people who undeniably care about you. You shouldn't have to change that."

"When you asked me if I shared my mother's distaste for the Jedi...I feel as if I should." He looked down at his knees guiltily. "I feel like I should. But I don't really. And now that you said that I could have been a Jedi – part of me wished it was me that was taken and not your friend."

Her heart gave a sickening lurch. _God, no_. She was thankful that the positions hadn't been reversed. And yet, however illogical, she was afraid that it still had the potential to be so. She would do everything in her power to stop this from coming about. _Absolutely everything_. "You should be glad of your place in this life. My friend...was not at peace when she died. You wouldn't have been either."

"Maybe I would have made different choices."

She shifted uncomfortably. "Well, we'll never know now will we?" _And thank goodness for that_.

He settled back against the bedpost. "You up for a brew of tea? I think I could use some right now."

She nodded absently, still wrapped in her own thoughts.

* * *

He ran back into the room, and yanked her off the bed by her arm. Mataki was somewhat too startled to ask questions, but allowed herself to be led by her brother. She stumbled behind him – still being pulled – towards the ladder. Javin immediately let go of her to untie it from its position and let it drop softly to the ground. He began to descend.

She instantly came to her senses and almost shouted out, "It's the dead of night you idiot! Where the heck are you going!"

He looked up at her from his position on the ladder. "Uncle's down there right now with someone, I want to see who it is,"

Just like a little kid, she thought. "Hasn't it even entered your head that this visitor might not be of the kindly sort?"

He began to move down the ladder. She opened her mouth noiselessly in frustration. Then finally, "At least let me go down first! I'll tell you if it's safe!"

"And let you have all the fun?" he chortled excitedly and quickened his pace.

_Damned if he wasn't the most irksome person she'd ever met_, thought Mataki. She had dealt with great warriors and leaders, even Mandalore himself, and yet could not quite fathom this creature that was her brother. Rolling her eyes, she sighed and followed him down the ladder.

At the base of the tree, they saw a faint flicker of light and then Kepp's tall form. He was conversing with someone, a woman...realized Mataki. A native of Endor? Something told her that she wasn't.

"...or someone. I was told that they would be here. No, I don't know who! But it's imperative that I find them." finished the voice.

Then Kepp's voice, undoubtedly attempting to remain calm despite the woman's urgency. "I can't tell you where to look if I don't know who you're looking for. Are you sure Endor's the correct location? No, I'm not insinuating that your source was inept...I – "

Javin's feet touched the ground and he suddenly came into Kepp's view, causing him to nearly leap out of his skin. After overcoming his fear, Kepp yelled in anger, forgetting any nightly dangers. "What the blazes are you doing down here! No!" He stabbed an emphatic finger in the air. "Go up that damned ladder and stay there!"

The next second he saw Mataki emerge from behind Javin and rolled his eyes in complete vexation. "Oh, _swell!_ Let's have a communal gathering, shall we? Bring down the rest of our village, why don't you!"

"We will if you keep yelling," interjected Javin. He then turned his attention to the woman. "Who are you?"

"I can't divulge – "

"– any information? Don't worry, a lot of our visitors feel the same way these days." He winked at Mataki.

She studied the woman's face in the light of the flame. Although it cast flickering shadows against her face, it was easy to tell that she had either fought in a bloody battle or undergone some kind of torture. There were obvious signs that Kolto packs had been used – given some swellings in one half of her forehead and none on the other half – and this indicated that the woman had been in a hurry to get to her intended destination. She doubted that she landed in Endor out of choice. Whether circumstance or an individual had directed her choice, Mataki was uncertain.

The woman had seen Javin wink, and instinctively turned her head towards the gesture's recipient. Her eyes widened in realization. "_My God_. _Ben_...General..."

Oh hell, thought Mataki. Being recognized on Endor wasn't something she had counted on.

"_General?_" repeated Javin. He turned to Mataki. "You never said you were a General,"

Unable to contain himself any longer, Kepp spoke fiercely in as quiet a voice as he could muster. "I've just about had enough of surprising encounters, so I want all three of you to get your feet on that ladder and start climbing up. _I mean it. _I don't care if you're a Major-General, Captain, or Commander... Over here, you'll do as I say. Now _move_ it. The lot of you."

* * *

"We must leave _now_, General," insisted Yustan.

They were granted some privacy within Kepp's bedroom, but it was partial, as the door proved to be an ineffective sound barrier should someone want to eavesdrop on their conversation. Mataki knew this was so, and lowered her voice considerably whilst Yustan swung the other way. She had an overwhelming sense of urgency that enveloped her, and Mataki knew that if the other woman could, she would literally drag her off the planet. Thankfully, for now, she chose to reason with words.

"My...I...Ben was right, there was a reason to come to Endor. You are that reason." she continued.

"Yustan," Mataki lowered her voice to an even, calm tone, hopeful that it would sedate the other woman somewhat. "I need to get my bearings on what you're telling me. So let's go about this one question at a time. Yes, I'll be doing the asking." She sighed and then gestured to a simple wicker chair against the wall. "Look, why don't you sit down first." Yustan accepted this invitation and sunk herself into the comfortableness of the seat. "Now. Who is Ben? Is he your source?"

"Well...yes, he was. Is." Yustan shook her head contradicting herself. She completely sure now that Ben was right. And it made her nervous with tension, because that would imply that he was right about so many other things. Including Revan. She wished that she was a datapad, and the other woman a data receptacle...she could then simply transfer all this information without having to deal with the formalities of chronology and logic. "Ben Fria. He fought in the forty-third battalion alongside me. We were stationed at Dxun – but only for a few weeks." Yustan studied Mataki intently, knowing how much of a hold Dxun had on her, but did not see any visible reaction to the mention of the name. She continued. "After the war, we were given...we, meaning a lot of the Jedi who fought in the war...orders by Revan to meet certain contacts who would then inform us of our next goal. Each directive was very specific, unique to each individual or a group of us. Ben and I did as we were told. We were misled."

Mataki, all the while had sat on the edge of Kepp's bed, with her hands in her lap. They had gone cold at the mention of Revan's name, and sweat began to cover her palms as she knew where this was going. Had Yustan already met with him then? Had he tried to convert the woman as he had done to herself? Or was this a trap – bait set by Revan? If so, it was clear that she was not consciously playing a role in this entrapment. She was an ignorant pawn.

_But wait_, she told herself, _let's hear the entire story before we come to that conclusion_.

"Misled by Revan...?" ventured Mataki.

Yustan nodded. "At first, we thought something had gone wrong. That someone had gotten wind of our mission and sought to hinder us. But, I don't believe that to be the case anymore."

"What went wrong?"

Yustan brought her hands together nervously. "We were captured by someone and taken to Korriban."

"Korriban," whispered Mataki in fearful reverence.

"For conversion. Revan's turned. He's had this plan in his mind for after the war. He's got it down to every last detail. He's got this..."she paused, as she was venturing into painful territory, but continued bravely, "...new section added to the Sith monastery or academy – I don't know – but it's for, well, you know." She leaned back into her seat waiting for Mataki to respond.

"_My God_." said Mataki.

"So you see why we must go immediately to stop him!"

Mataki raised her brows.

Yustan sighed, thinking that she had failed to convey the need for quick action. "He gave me some coordinates – to the Charker system. He wanted me to meet him there should something happen. If we summon some forces of our own, and with you at our forefront, we might be able to defeat him."

The other woman shook her head. "No. One thing we will not do is play ourselves into his hands. If Revan has got everything planned down to the last detail – as you say – then what use will this tactic prove? No, he will have anticipated this move. Let's think this out first." She inhaled. She was now, she knew, a part of this nightmare again. She was a fool to think she could live the rest of days in peace in Endor. A fool to think all her sins would be forgiven. But let's not mope about, shall we? Let's get all our pieces onto the board and put them together, one by one.

"Yustan, is Ben waiting for you here on Endor?"

"He died."

"I don't understand, you said – "

"He speaks to me. I can't pretend to understand how. But he told me that he cannot guide me for much longer, so he led me to you."

"Ah. Me. I'm not a General any longer."

Yustan smiled grimly. "You can peel the label off, but it doesn't change who you are. And you were a formidable opponent against the Mandalorians. I have no doubt that you'll prove to be the same against Revan."

"Will I now? Hm. That's left to be seen, I suppose. In any case, I have to ask...while in Korriban, did you hear of anything? Learn of any plans...information that might be helpful to us?"

Yustan shook her head, no. "Believe me, as soon as I got free, I fled. I didn't bother retrieving any data...I couldn't." Mataki nodded at her patiently, empathizing with her. "But, there could be one thing. The man, who captured us. His name: Jaq." She spoke it with a certain amount of venom in her voice. "He knew what he was doing. He's deceitful above all else – not Sith – but heading down that road. And should he join them, he could prove to be more than just a nuisance."

"What did he do?"

Yustan left out the part of torture, both to Ben and herself, she didn't quite feel up to recalling _every_ detail. "I believe he's the middle man. He...delivers...Jedi."

"And that's all you know about him? That his name is Jaq? That could very likely be an alias."

Yustan gave a sad chuckle. "I know. But he did stop at Nar Shadaar. Perhaps it's a convenient location for him. I know he stopped to speak to some Pazaak...oh Force, he has _contacts _there." she muttered in recognition.

Mataki smiled. "Now we're getting somewhere."

"We can't go to Nar Shadaar!" exclaimed the other woman, reading Mataki's line of thought.

"Stealth is important here. If we're going to be moving against a Sith Lord here...we don't want him to know. So we'll start with following up on a lead. Because what we need now is information. However, the Council must be warned."

"They won't listen to us."

"We can't let that notion stop us from trying. Someone will listen. We'll send them a message. No, not from here. I don't want anything traced back to Endor. Let's get that straight, alright? Should any information get out, leave out our meeting here. If anything happens to – " she deliberately left out Javin's name, "– this place, I don't know what I'd do."

"Yes, General."

"And stop calling me that. Elori or Mataki will suffice."

Yustan was smiling now. It was a tremendous relief, really, to have someone on her side. Someone to share the burden with, to bounce maddening thoughts off of. And having a former General with her was an added bonus.

"We have to leave soon, Yustan. Was your flight line tracked at all, do you know?"

"I don't think so."

"In other words, you're not sure." frowned Mataki. "Alright. We won't leave this very moment. Why don't we get some sleep now – I believe you, of all people, could do with a bit of rest. We'll get going tomorrow evening. And the first thing we will try to do after we're off Endor is ditch your ship. I'm thinking black market sounds good." Mataki nodded to herself. "Yes, let's rest our heads for now. You can have my bed."

With that, she left Yustan in the room by herself, and walked away. The strength and all the energy she had previously been possessed with now drained away. _Safe_, she told herself, _for the moment. Try not to worry anymore_.

She put her hands to her head and wept.


	12. Chapter 12

"What do you think? Is it legitimate?" asked the voice behind her.

Atris stared at the message, now downloaded to her own personal datapad, impassively. "I have no reason to believe it isn't."

The man cocked his head to one side, questioningly. She saw him do so through his reflection on the window pane, and sighed. "There is often a source code attached to all incoming messages. Meaning...that we can trace the message back to the sender."

The man shook his head slowly, attempting to work things out. "But if you weren't able to trace the message, then either our messenger used an immensely sophisticated scrambling device, or...they knew how to bypass our computer security system." he said softly, realizing.

"And therefore, all the evidence does indeed point to our lost Jedi."

The thought of Mataki, and their final words to each other pained her. Atris closed her eyes and wondered to herself. She remembered her tone, her anger, her disappointment, all of it directed towards the Exile. She couldn't even speak her name at this point, it would bring too many memories back.

_There is no emotion, there is peace_, she repeated to herself.

But that was just the problem, peace was what she lacked, then...and now. Her confrontation with the Exile had revealed more about herself than she cared to know. She knew the others – Kavar, Zez-Kai Ell, Vash and Vrook – did not see how deep this anger ran, and therefore, did not comment on it...but this self-acknowledgment was enough to make her feel sick. About the light side, the dark side, and herself.

_There is no chaos, there is harmony_.

The conflict within her was quelled – partly due to her training and partly because she couldn't stand this unnecessary emotion. But this guilt – was it just good common sense? Was she in the wrong? But that would mean that the Council's arbitration was unsound, and they had passed the judgment of exile in error.

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge_.

Why then? Why had this happened? _A more suitable question_, she thought, _would be to ask **how** they had erred_. The _why_ seemed evident. There was pride in themselves and arrogance in their teachings. Teachings that allegedly sustained the order for millennia. Therein lay the problem – it was too static, too rigid. Flexibility must be allowed for a being to survive if it is to withstand oncoming storms. The Jedi were not known for risk-taking and they most certainly were not known for flexibility. She, the Exile, had looked into the face of evil...and had turned from it. There was much they could have learned from her.

But there the Council had sat, on their pedestals, frowning, disapproving, and judgmental. She realized now how arrogant one could be if one claimed that they could pass judgment over another. They were but tiny players in a game called time – they had no right to do this. _She_ had no right.

"Atris?" spoke the man.

A tear rolled down her cheek, invisible to him. "Oh, I've made a terrible mistake, James. I...don't even know how I can begin to rectify it."

He took a step forward, closer to her, and then stopped. "Whatever you've done, you may still have time to make things right."

"Aren't you going to ask me what I've done?" she asked, turning around to face him.

He looked at her steadily in the eyes. "Would you have it that way?"

"No, no. I don't think I could. I don't think I could have you judge me."

"Master, I don't think I'm in the position to judge _anyone_."

"How ironic. That in all your years as my Padawan, you have turned out to be nothing like me." She smiled at the shock that swept across his face and quickly spoke to soothe him. "That's a good thing. Come here, James."

He came forward obediently, and she looked at him, as a mother would her son. He had grown from a boy to a man so swiftly that she knew she did not fully notice it until now. The pale brown hair was now longer at the back, and it fell across his forehead in a partly unkempt manner – he was not one to keep his appearance in order. A childlike manner she knew he would never outgrow. But the eyes that looked back at her were much older now, he had been on several missions – both with and without her – and had felt the emotions of the happy and the sad, the torturers and the tortured.

That was why he had not fully ascended to the title of Jedi Knight. James Yeo-Lan had deviated from the path expected of a Jedi, and that had almost been his downfall. She had blamed him, initially for it, insisting that his impatience and stubbornness were the cause of it all. The outer-rim planet, Devnorik, had suffered under the brunt of a civil war for five decades. The natives of Devnorik had been crying out for an end to the Royal Regime, and for a democratic government to govern its people. But the Royalists were far too powerful – they were at an advantage – both in numbers and coordination. The anarchists – as they were called – could not even hope to overcome if they lacked in strategy, as they had for several years.

James, on a mission to find a lost Knight, may have felt some sort of empathy for the rebels, and had decided to lend his aid. Ignoring the wishes of the Council, and even his own Master, he devoted that period of his life to what he believed to be the better cause: the freedom of Devnorik. He had a cunning mind for military strategy and a talent for finding solutions out of the thickest of problems. Atris was not surprised when the tide of the civil war turned, and the Royal Regime overthrown.

But he had come back to the Jedi then, expecting at least one among them to see the light in his actions. But none did. To them. His disobedience was an act of betrayal. Had Devnorik been part of the Republic, perhaps the Council would have taken more severe actions against him. But because of this, and Atris' arguments on behalf of the boy, they had backed down – only growling instead of biting. But he was not to go without punishment. James Yeo-Lan would never claim the title of Jedi Knight, no matter how hard he fought for redemption. He would forever be Padawan, under the watchful eyes of his Master and the Council.

Atris reached out with her pale hand and touched his cheek. "I am not supposed to have these feelings...of dread, of the fear of losing you."

He smiled a watery, nervous smile. His Master was not one to outwardly display her more tender side. "You're not going to lose me, Master. Even should I die in whatever is to come, our hearts will always be tied together."

"Will it now?" she said, somewhat absent-mindedly.

"How do you mean...?"

"I suppose you must know. Caution, discretion – everything the Council now insists we take – could only cost us more. So much more."

"You mean Revan, don't you? We'll find a way. If our strength doesn't lie in numbers, we'll find another way. I've done this before, remember?" he winked in a weak attempt at humour.

Atris raised her brows, slightly amused. Her expression grew serious. "If you seek to fight Revan – head to head – "

"Oh for crying out loud! I'm not _suicidal!_" James exclaimed. "Look, just...just tell me. What I need to do. I know this has to be done without the approval of the Council, and the fact that we're going about it like this – if _you're_ going about this without having a "committee" meeting – means we're up to our necks in bantha..._you know_."

"I want you to leave the Temple as soon as you can. This place is not safe for you now."

"And it's safe for the rest of the Jedi then?" he said with sarcasm. "What makes me better than them – that I should live and they shouldn't?"

"Let us consider it my last act of selfishness. But not completely devoid of humanitarian purposes. I have a mission for you."

"Go on,"

She handed him her datapad, and he accepted it silently. After several moments, he let out an audible breath. "Revan was always a cunning strategist. I just never thought..."

"She knows, James. About what it takes to walk the path that Revan had, and what it took to turn away from it. And we threw her out. We will pay for it now – and maybe even the rest of the Republic as well."

He rested his hand on her shoulder. "Look, perhaps we overlooked something we shouldn't have. But all our cards haven't been spent. We still have a few tricks up our sleeve...Bastila being one of them."

"And what if we fail? What if we've sent another promising youth to their death?"

"Then obviously...we switch to plan B. Which is this "mission" you have in mind for me."

The boy was being unduly optimistic. It was not in his nature, but she could now see that acceptance of failure without any attempts at succeeding was a loss in itself. He had no choice but to force this buoyancy. And she had no choice but to encourage it. "Trace the message. Find the Exile. And from there...use your own best judgment. Above all, remember that you must not return to the Temple. No matter how many distress signals are sent out – they may be traps. If all goes well, you know how I will contact you."

"What are you going to do?"

"We have no choice now but to fight from the shadows. Certain insignificant-seeming events will have to be set in motion. That is all I can say."

"I can stay and help you do this. You face an almost impossible task if you do this alone,"

Atris smiled warmly. "You will help by doing your part."

His shoulders drooped slightly. "When would you have me leave?"

"As soon as you can. After that, you take no orders from anyone save your good instinct."

"And the Council is not to know of this?"

She shook her head, no. "I have come under the realization that the Council – although wholly not to blame – cannot undertake something of this scale in the manner they are proceeding. Although I was party to it, I cannot rectify the situation unless I separate myself from them."

James lowered his gaze. "What will you do..."

"Do not worry yourself about this. I will do what I have to do. I've shirked my responsibility for far too long. I feel far better doing this than resorting to inaction."

His eyes lifted up suddenly, in worry. "The younglings, Master. If Revan succeeds..."

"...I will find a way to protect them." she finished.

Finding nothing more to say, he turned to leave. Before he exited the room, she spoke and he paused in mid-step to listen.

"James, remember that to me...you will and have always been, a Jedi Knight. And you will be a far better human being than I can ever hope to become. You do not need the dubbing of a council or an elder to tell you this. And...there is one final thing. Love, is not a bad thing. Love can save you. And love, although accompanied by passion, is not passion itself. They are separate entities. If you have the opportunity to find it amongst all the pain in this universe...take it, as you take my love with you as you go."

* * *

"You're going back! That's all I'm saying! Of all the _numbskull _things you could have done in your life – this takes the cake!"

Javin stood, leaning up against the wall, avoiding her gaze and attempting to appear nonchalant about it all.

She took a menacingly angry step towards him before Yustan threw herself in between the pair. "Easy," was all she managed to say before the next barrage of words began their onslaught.

"You're a sheer lunatic – that's what you are. Crazy, deranged, incompetent...I'm going to fling you out of the airlock. Yes, that's what I'm going to do." Mataki made a move to grab the younger man's arm, when he deftly swerved out of her reach.

Yustan took the opportunity to seize Mataki's full attention by shoving herself up close to her face. In all honesty, she had never seen the General act this way before. Mataki was always hailed as being calculated, calm, and logical to a fault under pressure. This was a spectacle so contrary to Mataki's character that she didn't quite know what to make of it.

"Elori," Yustan said, soothingly yet clearly. "We're halfway to Nar Shadaar. Calm down. We can gain nothing by dumping him off on some obscure system. And we can't go back – you said it yourself."

Javin watched the conversation from a few feet away inside the corridor of the ship, not quite willing to speak in his own defense. Mataki looked past Yustan and shouted in his direction. "Yes, that's right! You stay back there! Or I'm going to jettison you along with all our trash into space!" Then turning her attention back to Yustan, she hissed angrily. "This is no time for you to indulge the actions of a pubescent ignoramus. We have to go back to Endor."

Trying to appear unnerved, Yustan continued, speaking slowly in an attempt to alleviate the tension in the woman before her. "Javin is old enough to make his own decisions. Yes, it was wrong of him to hide away on board...but at least let us allow him the dignity of walking away to someplace of his own choosing. From there, he can find his way back to Endor."

"I'm not going anywhere!" Javin yelled back. "She's going to need all the help she can get, but she's too proud to admit it! Tell her _that!_"

Mataki's complexion turned several shades redder. "That's it, buddy, dig your grave deeper!"

"Elori!" Yustan almost shouted. And then to Javin, "_You!_ Get your butt into the cargo hold and shut up. You're not helping!"

And after the boy had reluctantly stormed off, "Listen to me. I have _never_ seen you like this, and I'm willing to bet that not even the Mandalorians – who were at the receiving end of your assaults – have either. _We can do nothing until we hit Nar Shadaar._ Are you listening to me?"

Mataki nodded, still furious and looking in the direction in which Javin had departed.

"Then you have to calm down. I need you – I need you to be clear-headed on this. Are you clear-headed?"

"I'm getting there," muttered Mataki.

"Good," exhaled Yustan. "When we hit that spit-sewer of a planet, we'll personally accompany him to a reputable freighter company and buy him passage to Coruscant. From there, he'll undoubtedly find some way to reach Endor. We'll even give him credits. _Okay?_"

"No. Not okay."

Yustan sputtered. "What then? You actually _want_ him to come with us!"

"Yes. It's the only way we can keep an eye on him."

Yustan withdrew, looking exhausted. "Oh Force, I can't do this anymore. I've never played ref to any game like _this_. Something's up, I know it is, but I don't think I have the energy to pursue the matter."

"If we let him loose on Nar Shadaar, he'll step off a ledge to his death while gawking at graffiti. The kid's never been off-planet. He's a danger to himself." explained Mataki.

"He's old enough to buy death sticks, Elori. He's a big boy. Why this concern over someone you randomly met on Endor? Alright, I understand you stayed with this family of his for several weeks, and it's perfectly natural to form an attachment...but this motherly over protectiveness is something beyond my capacity to comprehend."

"He can't fend for himself. Not on Nar Shadaar."

"Which is why I said we would personally see him off the planet once we get there!" shouted Yustan, now her turn at exasperation.

Mataki shook her head again. Part of her brown hair now covered her eyes, and she glowered from underneath it. "Either we turn this ship around or we keep him glued to our sides. There are no other alternatives."

Yustan fell back into a seat behind her. Red rings of weariness had formed underneath her eyes. "We can't go back – it's too risky. You said it yourself. This ship, if it's recognized...we're dead. If it's tracked going back to Endor, we're dead along with Endor's inhabitants. So we go to Nar Shadaar and sell this one, buy a new one, and then fly back to Endor to return the boy to his rightful place in the world. How does that sound?"

"Other than a complete waste of time and possibly costing us the lives of more Jedi, it's downright chirpy." Mataki said unhappily.

"How important is this boy to you?" asked Yustan.

"Enough to do all of that."

"Dare I ask why?"

Mataki sighed and looked down at her boots. "Brother," she whispered hoarsely, "he's my brother."

* * *

The docking station was exactly as how she had remembered it from before. Smelly. And crowded. There were other memories – that triggered much more than her sense of smell – but Yustan deliberately chose to focus on the assortment of stenches instead.

Elori Mataki had left her two companions by their "borrowed" ship to go and pay the docking fee. She stood for what her chronometer indicated was an hour and a half in line, drumming her fingers on her arms, casually pulling the knots out of her shoulder length hair, and thought. It was a far fetch – coming here hoping to find one man amongst the masses. But it was a lead, and that was something she had to keep repeating to herself. It was _something_, and something was better than nothing. They would obviously need some time to sit down and plan though – aimless wandering would do no good. They could be stuck on Nar Shadaar for an eternity should they choose that option.

She spotted a cantina ahead of her – it was fairly large and seemed to entertain a fairer crowd of folk – not typical to Nar Shadaar culture. That would do, she thought. There they could get something to drink, try to relax, and _plan_.

* * *

"What did you register our names under?" asked Javin, who had intelligently chosen to walk beside Yustan instead of Mataki.

"Aliases." she said tersely.

A beat.

"Ah. You're still fighting me in the trenches, huh."

"That's right. And you're a prisoner of war. So just try and stay on my good side, okay?" smiled Mataki sourly.

"Let's keep the gunfire down to a minimum, please? Should the galaxy right itself soon, I promise I will give the two of you enough time to duke it out till your hearts' content." Yustan said. "But for now, let us be civil to one another."

"_I_ can do civil." murmured Javin.

Yustan shot him a warning look.

As they walked on, she scolded herself for not seeing through Mataki's anger towards the boy. The only reason why someone would be so alarmingly furious over concern for another's safety was due to the fear of losing someone they loved. And since the pair weren't romantically entangled, her next assumption should have been that they were related.

And it was so natural for Mataki to want to keep this information from Yustan. Should Yustan get caught by the Sith, they would undoubtedly want to know of the members of their small party. The boy could be used as leverage. Worse yet, if they realized his Force potential – as Yustan now sensed – they may opt to use him against Mataki by turning him. She shuddered at the thought. Allowing for him to learn of _his_ history and that his sister was walking with them, was something that she and Mataki had to prevent him for knowing for the time being. She promised herself that she would do everything she could to stay true to her word.

"There," pointed Mataki. "The Wirgam's Bath – that's what it's called. It seemed...decent, in comparison to this planet's more eclectic cantinas."

"Why's it called the Wirgam?" asked Javin.

"Because the Wirgam is the larva that secretes bravia – a key ingredient of Trandoshan ale. Strong stuff." explained Yustan.

The trio walked in and stood in the doorway momentarily, taking it all in. A band – Yustan recognized them as the Starlight Entertainers – were doing a jazz number in the center of the room. Some fans sat up close, clustered around small circular tables, drinks and food in hand. At one side of the room ran a long bar, with several bartenders of droid and sentient make. At the other side were some Pazaak and Fe'ry players – most unprofessional – and present either for the love, or addiction, of the games.

"Wow...a Fe'ry match! Never seen a deck of Fe'ry cards before!" Javin said excitedly. "I heard that the surface of the cards is coated with miniature cells that project a holographic image – that must be something to see." he said wistfully.

Yustan looked at Mataki and raised her eyebrows.

Mataki sighed and gave in. "Oh why not. Go look. But don't open your mouth. Yustan and I are going to head over to the bar. We might be able to find someone with a reputation unsavourable enough to want to make an illegal purchase of our ship."

"And I could do with a shot of whiskey. This place is cold." Yustan said.

The pair walked in the direction of the bar and sat down. As Mataki watched Javin peer animatedly at the Je'ry game going on on the other side of the room, Yustan ordered a drink for them both.

"I can't believe people actually do this for a living," muttered Mataki as she nodded towards the gambling. "To put your lives in the hands of chance – "

"– is something we do every day." finished Yustan. "Only difference there is recklessness. No forethought."

Mataki nodded in agreement. "You could be right." She let out a breath. "Anyway, we're here to play a game of a different sort aren't we? Now where to find a willing participant?"

Yustan looked down at her clothes and scrunched up her face. She picked at a portion of her shirt between two fingers and spoke. "Perhaps if we were better attired, we could attract some attention." She smiled and looked up at her companion.

Mataki had put down her drink to look in another direction and wore an angry scowl on her face. Yustan followed the other woman's gaze and saw Javin seated in the middle of a Je'ry game. He looked like he was enjoying himself.

"_Why?_ It looks like someone else is doing most of the attracting," spoke Mataki between her teeth. "I am fed up with this. Honestly _fed up_."

"Oh Elori, _let_ him enjoy hims – " Yustan's voice trailed off.

"And how exactly is he even playing? He doesn't even have the credits!" She turned away in exasperation and caught a glimpse of Yustan's stunned expression. "Don't look so shocked – after all he's done thus far, this is probably the least of our concerns. I don't think he'll rake up _too_ much in debt. At least I hope not."

"No...look...Javin's opponent,"

Mataki turned back around. "What?"

"_My God_. It's him. It's Jaq."


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note (04/18/06):**

Ah…I got some reviews for chapter 12 – I'm not used to getting this many! Thanks muches, guys. Thanks to Katimnai (boy, you really do put up with a lot in reading my chapters), Dante-Revan (who's a great writer, go read his stuff!), Danceswpenguins9 (always love it when someone enjoys reading my stuff. Thanks for your message.), Phoenixascending, Phoenixspear and anyone else I forgot to mention (it's late, I'm on sedatives...)

A warning to those young things who are looking for a happier chapter, coz this ain't one. It's a tad darker than the others. If you do want to read it, I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Mataki stood stock still for several moments, unsure of what her next move would be. Her immediate thought was of Javin. Was he in any danger? The man, Jaq – whose face she couldn't quite see – did not seem to harbor anything more malicious than the intent to swipe someone else's credits. In fact, he fitted the perfect profile of a freighter pilot who lived off of his illegal shipments and a good night spent at the Pazaak table. And it was more than likely that he wasted a good portion of it on bootleg liquor.

Or so he wanted others to think.

He had a very casual way about him, she noticed. His left arm was loosely resting on the back of the chair, and he had one leg slung across the other. He shook his foot carelessly as he studied his cards, accompanied by the standard blank expression. The one thing, Mataki noticed, that seemed slightly out of place was the way he lifted his head towards Javin. Someone less suspicious might leave that to him being a good card player who knew how to read his opponents. But there was something in the way that he was studying Javin that made her worry.

She turned to look at Yustan. Her companion had a frozen expression splashed across her face. It wasn't terror, it wasn't sadness. It was the remembrance of something painful that had left trails of anger and bitterness in its wake. Whatever Jaq had done went straight to her soul, and Yustan was weakened and resentful of this control he had over her. Mataki narrowed her eyes and was hoping that the same fate would not befall Javin. She didn't want to give him that chance.

"Let's get the boy away from him," whispered Yustan, emerging from her thoughts.

Mataki swallowed. "As much as I would love to do that, I'm afraid that our quarry could escape if we rushed into this. And we're not in such an advantageous position as to let him get away."

"_I won't let him run_." said Yustan darkly.

Mataki placed a reassuring hand on her friend's arm. "No matter what I say to the contrary, Javin's not a fool. He's not going to follow the first stranger that offers him candy. Let's sit awhile, watch what our friend does. When he leaves the cantina, we'll follow."

Yustan's breathing did not follow a normal rhythmic pattern, noticed Mataki. _The woman needs some kind of closure, and the one sure way she believes she'll get it is in the death of that man there_. And Mataki knew from experience that that was nothing but a quick fix, and if not that, a very subtle lie.

"Yustan, I want you to do something for me." Mataki did not take her eyes off Jaq. "There's a chance that in conversation between those two, we might be mentioned. If our man looks this way, he'll be sure to recognize you. Go to another section of the bar and stay hidden. But wait where you can get a good view of Jaq and Javin. Here," she handed the other woman a comm. link, "Take this, I have another one. If we get separated I'll contact you. When Jaq leaves, I'll be the one to follow him, you stay here with Javin and make sure he doesn't leave your side. If I'm not back in thirty-two hours, you'll have to find some way to track me."

Yustan nodded. "Every comm. link has a chip with a locator code. If I can find a decent hacker and provided the comm. link hasn't been smashed to bits, I can come get you."

"One more thing. Just...how much do I have to be on my guard around this fellow?"

Yustan's eyes darkened. "Every word that comes out of his mouth is a lie. His face, his eyes – a complete farce with one single purpose: to deceive. My advice? Shoot first and ask questions later. Of course, he's not going to be much good to us dead, but if I was queen of the galaxy, that would be how I would want it."

Mataki chuckled despite the tension.

Yustan picked up her drink and looked her friend in the eye. "Be careful. And don't worry, I'll take care of Javin."

* * *

If it was action that Mataki wanted, that was what she did not get. Jaq played for several hours without so much as a bathroom break. She guessed that he had already defeated Javin, because the younger man left his place at the table and was watching Jaq's game with a new opponent unfold. She watched Javin stand behind him and laugh, cheering this murderer on from the sidelines.

Her drink was long finished and she refrained from ordering another. The last thing she needed was impaired judgment. And anyway, she couldn't quite handle her liquor like a man, contrary to popular belief. Truth was, she hated alcohol, its taste, the fact that it had to be fermented before...

Jaq began to rise, pushing his chair back as he did so. Mataki leapt out of her ruminations and studied his movements. He put his cards down on the table and apparently said something to his opponent that made her laugh. He then turned his attention to Javin and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.

Mataki winced as if stung, and made as to move forward. She stopped herself, however, as she saw Javin move towards the bar and Jaq walk towards the exit. She slipped off her stool and followed. On her way out, she walked by Javin, and bent down quickly as if to tie her shoelace, keeping one eye on Jaq.

Javin bent over and immediately straightened up as Mataki shot him a warning look. "Don't look at me," she whispered fiercely. "I've got to go. I'll be back – go talk to Yustan waiting at the other end. See you soon."

She rose up and walked out of the cantina.

* * *

Jaq turned his collar up around him as the wind began to pick up. It was funny, that he chose to play a game with someone who was obviously Force-sensitive, chat with him, and then walk away. And the younger man he had met in The Wirgam's Bath would have been easy pickings too. But for some reason, he felt lighter and somewhat eased of his burden. He no longer needed to deliver these people. He didn't have to lay out his traps, shock, burn or harm anyone. On the other hand, he was out of a job, but he could adapt. He would survive.

Plus he was supposed to lay low. And this was a great place for doing just that. Even should the Sith think of coming here to find him, they'd be hard pressed to accomplish their goal. Most of the Sith were not as powerful as to move completely unnoticed by some of Nar Shadaar's shadower than shadowy residents. Word would go around quickly that they had touched down. And since he was in on the loop, he would know soon enough.

The thing that worried him the most was that he had heard nothing from his friend, Ges. Ges had told him that he would have had to cease direct contact since their last exchange of information, and that much was natural. But Ges had not even been in touch with any of his friends here on Nar Shadaar. He was a busy man – he handled shipments, sold spice, aided bounty hunters – but none of them had received a message from him or from anyone who knew him for over a standard week. And that was long enough to make Jaq anxious.

So he had scouted Ges' old haunts, without going inside of any specific buildings hoping for a sign of a familiar face. He wasn't searching for Ges' in particular, maybe one of his underling's instead. But he recognized no one. He leaned up against a cleaner portion of graffiti-stained wall, and reached into his pocket for a spice stick. Before he lit it, he looked around him. Nothing. Nothing save for the usual unfavorable crowd of folk. Some refugees, who looked like they might have been able to escape the refugee quad for a bit, Rodians having an argument and a Gand.

Jaq frowned. A Gand on their own? Usually, they went about in groups of four or five, for familial dependence, security or both, he didn't know. Perhaps he was lost. Or perhaps he –

"Need a light?" said a voice near him.

He jumped slightly. He prided himself on his ability to conceal himself from someone else's view, not the other way around. The stranger was a woman, he noticed, but in the poor light, he couldn't quite see her. Maybe she was one of Sudaa's girls – from the brothel in the western sector, nearby. He'd decided he was too tired tonight.

"No thanks."

"Those spice sticks can kill you," she said.

He laughed cheerlessly. "Oh don't worry about me, sweetheart. I won't die from these." _Something else will find me first_, he told himself silently.

She sighed in the darkness. "Too bad. I was hoping you'd turn over a new leaf and quit your luckless habits. That way, I'd get your remaining supply."

He smiled and handed her a spice stick. She took it. "Rough night?" he asked, half-heartedly.

"Oh, you have _no_ idea."

"Not quite in the mood either, huh."

She said nothing.

"The thing about this place...is that it consumes you while giving you the illusion that you're consuming _it_. Kinda like these spice sticks." mused Jaq as he rolled the stick between his fingers.

"Addicted to Nar Shadaar?" she laughed. Strangely enough, it was a comforting sound. "Tell _that _to the refugees. If there was a weapon large enough to obliterate a planet, they'd do this one in for good."

"Would you?"

She took a while to answer. "No. I don't think I would. As for some of its inhabitants however..."

"Say no more." chuckled Jaq.

She lit the spice stick, and in that brief moment of light, he saw part of her face. It looked young, but somehow not so. Nar Shadaar could do that to people, he decided.

"So what is it that you do other than to philosophize in your spare time?" she asked him.

"Spare time is all I got now, honey. And what else can a man do when he's got no place left to go?"

"Waste away."

He turned to look at her. There was something odd about her, something he couldn't quite grasp. Her silhouette told him nothing about her facial expression, and she did not reveal much through her voice. If she was trying to seduce him, she was doing a pretty poor job of it.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Well, you're spending the remaining hours of the night standing up against a wall, smoking spice sticks and making eyes at that Gand over there. I sure don't think you've attained the peak of your life's ambitions."

"Maybe I have. Maybe I have it made already, and this is how I relax."

"Sure. Whatever you say."

"This is funny. I don't think that you're in the position to be judging me, sweetheart."

"None of us in this universe is in a position to judge anyone."

"You could be right. As for me, I gave up judging years ago. I'm just a drifter."

"And do as you please...?"

"And do _exactly_ as I please." repeated Jaq.

"Then why are you here? You don't strike me as a man who intends to spend his years on Nar Shadaar. Unless, of course, you're Exchange,"

"I don't work for anyone save myself. But it wasn't always that way, as I'm sure _you've_ guessed. To put a long story short, I should have known better than to get entangled in something bigger than myself. _Much bigger_," he muttered, remembering Korriban. "So now, I've officially retired from that business and I'm searching for greener pastures."

"What business would that be?"

"Oh, the kind of business that nice girls like you should stay away from."

"Like the business of delivering Jedi?" she said.

And in that moment all the dread he'd been holding at bay caught up with him to strike him hard on the head, until all he saw was a blinding flash of light and then darkness took him.

* * *

He was awake before he opened his eyes. When he did so, he opened them slowly and cautiously. Whoever had him had bound his feet and hands tightly, and was most likely waiting for him to regain consciousness. _In my own sweet time_, he told himself, _I'll wake up when I'm good and ready_.

Opening his eye a crack, he saw a hideous face, both black and brown and distorted, looking at him. For split second he thought he was back on Korriban and gazing on a frightful gargoyle, but then he noticed that it was only a sack. And behind the sack lay some crates – small and old. The metal in most of them had rusted over, and that was all he could gather in the meager light that glazed over the room. _An abandoned warehouse_, he thought? That wasn't a good sign. Whoever had captured him – there _had_ to be more than one captor – chose a secluded portion of this quadrant for reasons Jaq did not fully want to delve into.

He tested his bonds gingerly. Yup, they were too tight to wriggle out of. His head hurt something bad, whoever had blindsided him must have used lead piping...it was lucky he had nothing more than an aching head. Then out of the corner of his eye, he detected movement, a figure strode in front of him and sat down on one of the crates. He tentatively looked up, both angry and afraid that he might see someone he recognized.

The face was unfamiliar, but the voice was not.

"You're up," she said.

"You're astute." he quipped.

He opened his eyes further, but the glare from the fluorescent light – however poor – blinded him slightly, and all he could take in about his captor was that she was a woman, and probably a strong one at that, if she managed to do what she did by herself. A thought popped into his head.

"Twin Suns?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, _what?_"

"Nothing. Never mind. I just thought you were...uh..." he paused, unsure of whether to ask her if he was a bounty she was about to collect on. "...why am I here?"

She laughed as cheerlessly as he had ever heard. "Why do _you_ think you're here?"

His head throbbed. "Before you replicate the typical "interrogation scene" everyone's watched on holovids, could you uh...move that light away from my face? Please?"

The light dimmed somewhat – she must've moved it away. He groaned. He needed to get out of this situation. Fast. He decided to take a bold approach. "Look...er, Miss, if you untie me now, I promise I won't send bounty hunters after you. You can walk away from this – your life, your pride, intact. Don't make this mistake."

She let out an audible breath. "I can't do that."

"Why ever not?"

"Because of what you've done."

"Why don't you fill me on this? Maybe if I'm more aware of my sordid past, I might be more receptive to this invigorating conversation."

"You've got quite the mouth on you, haven't you?"

He couldn't tell if she was smiling or not. If she was, that couldn't possibly be a good thing. His heart beat a little faster.

"Alright then. But keep in mind that your play at temporary amnesia isn't fooling anyone. You smuggle highly illegal goods. And some people have gotten quite hurt in the process." she stated.

"Don't tell me you're in this for moral reasons," he scoffed. "You're hired by someone to bring them my head on a plate. Credits are what you're after, sister. Whatever they're paying you – I can top it."

"Is your life _that_ valuable to you?"

No, it wasn't. Choice was, however. He would die the way he wanted to die. No schutta was going to dictate terms to him.

"I don't want your credits, and no, I am not working for anyone."

A wave of nausea spread over him. "Jedi. You're a Jedi."

"Why, Jaq? Why'd you do it?"

"Oh _shut up_," he hissed angrily. "Don't you start getting preachy on me! Just fling me over the ledge – I'd rather that than suffer your sermons."

She moved swiftly towards him and clenched her hand around his throat. That was when he saw her clearly for the first time. My God, that face looked so innocent, but the eyes – he had only seen those eyes in one person before – his own. There was bloodlust there, it was veiled, but only because he had felt it could he recognize it. This woman was no Jedi. There was no mercy here. _A kindred spirit_, he thought ironically, as he struggled for air.

"I don't waste my words on those who are already dead. But perhaps you aren't as far gone as we think. So let's think about this next question carefully, okay? I will give you a choice – since you're so insistent on getting things done your way. If you want to die, _here_, _now_, I will kill you. If you don't want that, we can start walking backwards from the hell you seemed to have stumbled into."

"Tell...you nothing," he choked. "Doesn't work – threats..."

She was calm. So calm, it frightened him. It was almost like looking in a mirror. "You know, you're right. I did seek you out for information, and if you die I would have gained nothing. But there is another purpose here – something bigger than either of us. I see that now." She slackened her grip somewhat, to prevent him from losing consciousness. "Regain your humanity. Find hope again. I just thought I'd let you know...from one murderer to another."

His eyes were getting red and his face growing pale. "No...hope for me."

"Are they at your door now, Jaq? Are your daemons nearby? Are they crying loudly for your blood? Then give in, if that's what you want. Let them finally claim you and all that you once held sacred. Fall into your abyss. You built it for yourself after all. And those howlers you struggle to keep at bay, they are indeed the dead – they are the lives _you've_ taken without conscience or forethought. Did you enjoy bathing in their tears? From the very moment they winced at their first cut to the last moment they cried for life – did it satisfy you? I can see your body; it's drenched in their blood. And I can recognize that sickening stench."

He squeezed his eyes shut, not from her hand at his throat, but from the visions that fired into his mind. He felt something wet on his cheek. The tears, the tears began. "Stop, _please_..."

"As you once carved the flesh of your victims, they will now dig their knives into your soul. Every murder, every trap you've laid...the same deeds will be directed at you. Remember their eyes, Jaq. Remember their voices."

"_Stop it!_" He started to sob. "_Stop,_"

"How many did you claim? Give me a number. Myself, I've done _thousands_. Killed from afar in laser fire and killed up close with the blades of knives. Slain so many that all you can see around you, on the horizon, are their bodies. I hated them, Jaq. I hated them, so I killed them. Death begets hatred as hatred begets death."

"_Don't want_,"

"Tough. You made a choice. And there's no going back. I can be your grim reaper. I can give you what you want."

"_Not that,_"

And then his sobs gave way to a more horrible sound. Something that she had only heard coming from her own throat and those that she had once slaughtered. It wasn't a cry, it wasn't a wail. It was the sound that came straight from the soul, from the core of what was still human in him. It was hope's last fervent effort at being heard. Indeed, it was the dying cry of hope, and should she decide to turn from it, it would cease to exist.

She tightened her jaw, and spoke softly to herself. "Because I was granted forgiveness, I see no reason why it should be denied from you."

She moved behind him to cut his bonds. Although he did not notice the act, he brought his arms forward and curled into a tight ball, with his cries filling the empty room they were in. And then she held him, as if to steady his cries, and like that she waited, for several hours until his cries lessened and gave way to sleep.

* * *

"You untied him?" gasped Yustan. She looked in horror towards her friend. Mataki looked several years older. Her hair was wet and stringy, her eyes red and her face worn.

"Looks that way, doesn't it." muttered Mataki. She sat down heavily onto a sack and held her head in her hands.

"Is he drugged?" Yustan asked, still in a state of disbelief. "Tell me he's drugged."

"He's asleep."

"I don't believe this."

"Yustan," began Mataki – there was something in her voice that compelled the other woman to listen. "Whether you believe me or not, I believe he has suffered enough punishment in one night than one can in decades. But I can't speak on your behalf, I understand. You have been tortured at his hands, and you have a right to all your answers. I think that now...he might be willing to give you those."

Javin, who had been standing quietly in a darkened corner of the room spoke. "_You broke him_," he murmured.

Mataki lifted her eyes and looked at her brother in appreciation of what he had understood.

Yustan, still not convinced, persisted. "I want him to go through everything that Ben went through,"

Mataki shook her head. "And what will you gain?"

"Satisfaction." stated Yustan flatly. "And _don't_ you humor me. I turned away from that Jedi _crap_ years ago. I can, and I will, stoop to his level to honor Ben's memory."

"You think he'd appreciate that kind of loyalty?" asked Javin, from the sidelines.

"He was my friend." Yustan's voice broke slightly.

"He _is _your friend." Mataki said.

"Oh spare me the theatrics of the afterlife. Ben's not here, so he's gone. I want his form – his _physical_ form back. But I'm denied that. Because of him." Yustan stared at Jaq's sleeping form with hatred pouring from her eyes.

"If someone...like yourself, as good a person as yourself, cannot grant this man forgiveness...then, there is no more hope for me." Mataki looked directly into her friend's eyes.

Yustan then saw something, so hollow – hollower than darkness itself – look back at her, and she had no choice but to turn from it.

"I've killed men. I've killed women. I've killed children." Mataki faced Javin, painfully. "It's true. I'm a murderer. If I could rip the skin off my bones to rid myself of this pain, I would gladly do that. But I keep going in the hope that people like you," she looked at Yustan, "and you," then at Javin, "...can forgive me. Give me a second chance."

There was dead silence save for their breathing.

"I think...you have that chance." spoke Javin finally.

Yustan bit her lip and smiled bitterly, but not without kindness, at Mataki. "You were always good with words. Always. I thought you were successful because of your ability to manipulate situations, people. But I see now...it's because you believed so strongly in what you did. As you do now."

"Then you..." started Mataki.

Yustan walked up to her and held out her hand. Mataki grasped it with her own, and allowed for the other woman's strength to pull her up off the ground. Yustan smiled. "Forgiven? I'd say so."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note (04/20/06):**

A few graphic descriptions of violence at the end of this chapter. Please do not read on if it will disturb you.

Also, if the events described in Mataki's dream seem familiar, it's because a similar event took place during the Vietnam War in a region called Mai Lai. Maybe you've heard of it. A squad, known as Charlie Company, were given orders to "neutralize" a village thought to be or have harboured members of the Viet Cong (VC). The leaders in charge of this mission deliberately omitted the orders to refrain from gunning down women and children. In just four hours, over one hundred women and children were shot, beaten and raped to death in Mai Lai. Many of whom survived did so by hiding underneath piles of dead bodies.

Later on, it was discovered that none of the villagers were VC.

* * *

The low hum of the ship's engines throbbed rhythmically like the heartbeat of a leviathan beast. The silence was deafening – it was a stark contrast from the blazing noises of lightsaber upon lightsaber – and it propelled them further towards an emotionally charged edge. She could see outside the ship now, the colorful flight of lasers from both Republic and Sith fighters. Her heart dropped as she saw a Republic cruiser take a fatal hit and burst into flames.

They were dying for her. Their deaths were buying her the time she needed to get on with this mission. Her eyes blazed and she pursed her lips. _So, let's get on with it then, shall we?_

Bastila Shan signaled for her three comrades to follow her down the large corridor. From a group of six, they were now down to four. If the galaxy were a kinder place, she would go back and retrieve those bodies – give them a proper burial. Lay them to rest as heroes. But the galaxy was indifferent to good and to evil. At times, it seemed as if it favoured the latter, taunting those who still clung to hope to fight harder...and die harder. _But a Jedi must not indulge such doubts, especially not **now**_, she told herself. Now, focus, focus. _For the love of all that is good in the world, do not falter now_.

Their steps were softer, and each of the four Jedi – with Bastila in the lead – were fully aware of every movement they made. When they approached the end of the corridor, they paused, and looked to the youngest among them for guidance.

Bastila closed her eyes and reached out with an invisible hand to feel out in front of her. Beyond the doorway, her hand grew cold and within moments it began to ache. The ache reached her soul and caused it to grow frightened. Using her training, she steadied her heartbeat and set in motion waves of a confident kind of placidity that radiated into the minds of her compatriots.

They moved one step forward as the door slid open silently.

And there he stood, at the helm of his ship, facing them. There was no need to wonder at what lay behind the mask he wore – they knew he was ready, and he would give them the fight of a lifetime.

His lightsaber was not within their view, but they knew he had not ignited it yet. In fact, his stance was not that of someone prepared to engage in combat. To Bastila, he stood with the composure of a Council member ready to discipline a defiant Padawan – with his feet set apart, and hands clasped behind his back. _Right then. If he was ready, so were they_.

It was time to do what they had come here to do.

"There is still time for you to surrender. Give yourself one more chance." Bastila spoke.

"One more chance?" repeated Revan. She was certain he was smiling behind that mask. "One more chance for what? Redemption? _Good God_, woman, don't you realize that I am now more free than I ever have been? That all the restrictions that once shackled me are now gone?"

"That is not the type of redemption I'm referring to, Revan." Bastila said. As she spoke, she used the Force to block out any attempts by Revan, on his part, to read her mind. And simultaneously, she spoke to her comrades. _Remain vigilant. Perhaps his engaging us in conversation is merely a momentary distraction. He could strike at any minute_.

"I am _perfectly_ aware of what you are referring to, Bastila." said Revan, a spot of irritation showing briefly through his smooth voice. "Take the hint: I do not want to return."

"So this is what you have fought to become? A murderer?" asked one of the other Jedi.

"Now that's an understatement," chuckled Revan. "I'm that...and so much more."

Inside herself, Bastila smiled. He was overconfident. Perhaps they could use this to their advantage. "You are walking a circular path, Revan. What began with terrible death will end in terrible death. Surely you, of all people, should know this."

"That is the way of the Sith. Once you have accepted it, then you are truly on the path to victory. Unlike the Jedi, who run cowering to their temples when something foreign emerges, we are opportunists. We do not shy away from what we fear – we contest it, we battle it."

"Does that look like what we are doing now?" asked Bastila quietly.

Revan paused and brought his hands forward from behind his back. He held his lightsaber in them. "No. Indeed, it looks as if you are facing your fears head-on. Although this is admirable, it is also foolish. You lack the training to confront me. Should you be one of us, there is a chance that with your talent and your remarkable affinity for the Force, you could defeat me."

"You know that won't happen." she said defiantly.

"You are an arrogant one, Bastila...to claim that you see so far into the future. But I grow impatient. Are you here for casual banter, or are you here to fight?"

"Revan." The way she said his name made him pause briefly. There was a commanding tone in her voice, and he could not dispute the fact that he was up against an opponent powerful enough to fulfill what she came to do. "Whether you believe me or not, the man who you once were – the man who cared for the innocent, his friends – still lives. I sense some conflict in you. He aches for the life he lost. I appeal to that man in you, Revan. If there is a reason for why he shouldn't die...tell me now."

"There is no reason. That man is dead." he said curtly. But there was a slight break in his voice, a hint of sadness, perhaps, and that was enough for Bastila to realize that what she believed was true.

"I cannot – "she began, but was suddenly cut off by deafening sound that rang out in all of their ears. Through the closed lids of her eyes she saw an intense moment of whiteness, and then the rush of air past her face, the bridge had been targeted by laser fire – who was the idiot who did that?

No time – the air was moving so fast it was sucking the breath out of her lungs. She opened her mouth and but no sound came out. She couldn't see Revan. Two of her comrades, however, were visible and they were hanging on to whatever was available to them. She clung to the swinging door of a large locker and used it to move towards the bridge controls. Her progress was slow, but steady. When she reached the controls, it took her several moments to make sense of all the switches and dials – lack of oxygen was making her mind sluggish. She found what she was looking for and turned a dial clockwise.

The hurried torrent of air diminished as metal shutters clanged shut around the broken windows of the bridge. She breathed, allowing for sweet air to re-enter her lungs and ran towards her two comrades.

"Hyder! Roan! Are you alright! Where's Sylvana? Where's Sylvana?"

One of the Jedi shook his head. The other spoke first. "Revan,"

Bastila swung around and stumbled forward to where Revan last stood. His body was pressed up against the foot of a large control console, and he lay motionless. She got down to her knees and turned him, so that his back now lay on the floor.

"Revan..." she whispered. No answer. She tentatively unhitched his mask from its clasps and looked on his face. Nothing more than a man. A small cut was engraved above his left eye and other than that, no visible bleeding. She reached out with her hand and touched the wound gingerly.

He groaned.

He was still alive then. But not for long. The groan was a sign that he was slipping in and out of consciousness. If he fell back into darkness, he would not emerge from it. She closed her eyes.

_Should this end in failure, may the galaxy forgive me for what I am about to do_.

She touched his mind. He cried for help. She came to his aid.

* * *

"_And you have nothing for me to go on?_" asked the Gran, looking up from his console screen. His mouth turned crooked, in a semi-frown, and he studied James' face intently with his trio of eyes. "_Because if there's something – even the smallest thing, then you should tell me_."

James Yeo-Lan straightened up and thought hard, wrinkling his brow. "Wait," he said excitedly, "There is this datapad." He pulled it out of the small pouch he had been carrying and handed it to the Gran. "The message she sent us was first stored here. I don't know how helpful it's going to be – in fact, if you can get anything from this, I'd be surprised."

The Gran snatched the datapad from the man's hand. One of his triple eyestalks swiveled in James' direction and looked at him curiously. "_How surprised?_"

James grinned. "Surprised enough to buy you a round of drinks, buddy."

"_You'd better hustle up some credits, James. There'll be plenty of revelry tonight_."

The other man simply smiled and left his friend, Chudo, to do his thing. He walked slowly around the small studio apartment and marveled at the life his friend lived. There were about ten large, grey computer units – all hooked up to one another – sitting stolidly in their stuffy environment. The buzzing activity from each unit generated enough heat to cause him to sweat slightly underneath his cloak. He approached one carefully and bent down to peer at it. There was a colorful array of lights on the upper panel, and some blinked dutifully as they went about their variety of tasks. Like a child enamored with something new, James reached out with his hand to finger one of the lights. A loud, irritating beep emanated from somewhere in the room.

"_No – don't touch the brains!_" yelled Chudo from across the room. And upon protest from his friend insisting that he was merely inspecting the equipment, he shouted again. "_You touch one, you'll touch another. They don't like that! And if they don't like it, they won't work!_"

James sighed, a tad exasperated and moved aimlessly about the room. Two minutes later, he found himself beside the Gran again. "Is there anything I could do to help?"

"_Hmm...what?_" sniffed Chudo absently. "_Oh – help. Yes. Go count those beads in that box over there._"

"I fail to see how that's going to help you trace the source of this message," James said, staring at a box of multi-coloured beads, perplexed.

"_It'll help me by keeping your inquisitive snout away from me and mine, and give me some room to work_." stated Chudo.

James smiled sardonically and moved towards the beads.

* * *

Two-thousand and thirty nine beads later, he was roused from a semi-hypnotic state by Chudo's yelps. James leapt to his feet and rushed over to the Gran.

"What! What is it?"

"_James, my son, you are going to behold one drunken Gran tonight_," grinned Chudo.

"You did it!" and then, a little more believably, "Of course you did!"

"_Ask me how_." smirked Chudo.

"How _did_ you accomplish such an impossible task?" laughed James, humouring his friend.

"_Watch and learn_..." Chudo hovered his hands dramatically over the console keys, like a pianist poised over his music – about to begin his first movement. He struck several keys like lightning and data began to flood the screen. "_What you see in front of you, is a string of code – sorted chronologically. It's the mass volume of information that is sent through beta waves._"

James peered eagerly at the screen. "I don't understand any of it, but sure."

Chudo snuffed at him impatiently and continued. "_In other words this is the information bounced off from the satellite colonies that relay information sent from one system to another. To break it down into something that can be analyzed can take months – using a normal system. But with these_," Chudo turned around in his seat and gestured dramatically to his computer units, "..._this task can be accomplished in a matter of a few hours. Now. Any equipment capable of sending and receiving messages like this has a personal ID to it. Identification is often encrypted, for security and privacy reasons. For someone such as myself, coming up with an ID number is simple. Once I have the analyzable format of data, I can snap my fingers, and behold! I have the sending unit's identification. But in this instance, I was deceived. I got an ID number and even a location. But when I matched this location ID with that of a similar standard ID, it didn't match up_."

"What do you mean?"

"_The location ID, or signature, implied that it was coming from somewhere near Geonosis. I dug up the authentic signature tied to messages that originated from Geonosis, and found that it didn't match up with what I found_."

"So we're dealing with a paranoid piece of equipment."

"_That belongs to a paranoid owner_." agreed Chudo. "_So then I thought, we got some high-tech smugglers on our hands or some possible anarchists. Why smugglers or anarchists? Because they're working to avoid being detected by your average Republic communication satellites. This is a difficult undertaking. Believe me, I know from personal experience._"

James raised his eyebrows. "Personal experience? Chudo, have you turned to anarchy in your spare time?"

"_Ah, this is where the details get somewhat sticky_," said Chudo.

"As if it isn't sticky already," commented James, rolling his eyes.

"_Off the record...?_" smiled Chudo sheepishly.

"Off the record." James said. And then added with a wink, "Jedi's honour."

"_In my...er, spare time, I tend to involve myself in the activity of the Hackers and Slashers Consortium. We uh, have our own personal satellites set up. On non-Republic territory, I assure you!_" he added hurriedly.

"Asteroids," muttered James in wonder, shaking his head. "I'll be damned." What someone could do with the information gathered from such unmonitored sources...it was undoubtedly worrying.

"_But anyway. We're not anarchists. Nope, nope. Not at all. Just...observers, of a sort. And from our "observation" deck at HaSC, we have managed to create a databank of location signatures. And lucky for you – and for me, because don't forget, you're buying me drinks – I have found a match. Your message came from around Killian V_."

"Killian V? Is that a planet?"

"_Nope, nope. It's a moon. And an inhospitable one at that – sulfurous fumes in the troposphere and carbon monoxide in your stratosphere. No sentient beings have been identified. Of course, you might find your occasional resilient bacterium..._" mused Chudo.

"Wait," spoke James trying to stay on the topic, "Killian V...what's the nearest system – the nearest _hospitable_ system – to it?"

"_Why, Endor, I believe_."

"Endor... You're certain of this information?"

All three of the Gran's eyes closed solemnly. "_HaSC is as reliable a source as you're gonna get._"

James reached into his pockets and slammed down some credits onto Chudo's desk hurriedly. "Go drown yourself in some Trandoshan ale, old boy. And we'll talk about your hobbies when I get back!"

Chudo didn't say anything, but grinned as kept two eyes on the credits he'd just earned and one on his quickly departing friend.

* * *

Mataki's head dropped backwards due to weariness, and as it hit the wall behind her, she awoke with a start. Sitting in this room, tucked away in a corner was not the epitome of comfort she had imagined after the last few days of planning and worrying. By now, she had expected them to have sold the Sith vessel and bought something a lot bigger – and therefore, with more than just one bunk – something with which they could move freely around in without being identified.

But that wasn't the case, was it? Now that they had found who they were searching for, events had taken a new turn. Both Mataki and Yustan had expected to interrogate their prisoner, retrieve the information they needed to proceed to the next level, and then turn him in to the Republic. Mataki could see now how naïve she had been to expect events to unfold to her suiting. Nothing in life worked that way – she was being unduly optimistic. She couldn't turn him in. It wasn't that she didn't have the heart to do so, it was simply that she identified with him. And so there it was. So simple an explanation, and so reluctantly did she admit it.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes to stay awake.

"Really. There's no need to watch me. I'm not going to run." spoke the equally exhausted man opposite her.

Was he trying to be funny? No, she decided. He was serious. "I know."

"Then get some sleep. You could use it."

"No, Jaq, _they_ could use it." Mataki said, nodding to the sleeping forms of her brother and her friend. "They haven't slept in over two days."

"So...what's it like?" asked Jaq.

"Sleep?"

He laughed softly. "No, I mean, _them_. Your friends – you have a...bond between you and them. I can feel it. I just wanted to know what it's like."

Mataki smiled to herself. "It feels good."

"Care to elaborate?"

She wrinkled her brow, trying to find the appropriate words to explain. "They're in my thoughts...a lot of the time," she glanced at Javin and then back at Jaq. "They believe in me, as I do in them. It makes a difference – in what you do, and eventually in who you become."

"Huh. Too bad you can't get some for hire. Y'know, a company of sorts. You could call it "Rent-A-Friend." He held up his hands and gazed at imaginary neon lettering.

Mataki had to laugh. "Yes. That _would_ take the galaxy by storm."

His smile dissipated as he turned from humour back to his current situation. "So."

"So." she repeated, unable to come up with anything.

"What are your plans...for me?" and then quickly, "No, wait, wait. Don't tell me. I don't really want to know. To be honest – _God,_ isn't it refreshing to be honest?" He paused taking it in, "To be honest, I don't care what you are going to do with me."

"And why not?" she asked, looking at him with amusement in her tired eyes.

"I trust you."

"You trust me to do what?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Doesn't matter. All I know is that you won't throw me down the hole you pulled me out of."

She frowned. "I didn't come here to save you, Jaq. I'm sorry to say that when I found you I had the full intention of turning you in."

He interjected with his finger in the air. "Ah, but you didn't, did you?"

She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. "No. I didn't."

"What's your name?" he asked suddenly.

"Elori." she answered, opening her eyes. As for her last name, she would keep that between herself, Javin and Yustan.

"Elori," he repeated to himself. "Hm. Interesting. Do you know that among the Echani it means "One"? Not in the numerical sense, more of something singular. Unique."

"Ironic."

"How so?"

"Go to sleep, Jaq." she said, unwilling to continue the conversation in this direction. In addition to that, she was tired of talking. It wasn't that Jaq didn't provide stimulating dialogue, she was just plain exhausted. And sometimes exhaustion tended towards irritability, and the last thing she wanted was to get into an argument.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely for the first time in a long time. "Just thought that maybe...we could get better acquainted. But you're worn out, I can see that. I am too. Sleep would be good. I haven't er, slept soundly for...a good length of time.

She just smiled.

He returned the smile, hoping that he hadn't worn the woman out with his incessant talking and questions. He hadn't spoken like this to anyone for so long that he felt like a toddler learning a new language. And he was so eager to learn. And to practice. But not just with anyone. Only with her.

"Elori? Before I fall asleep, would you like to know my name?"

She nodded, yes.

"Atton. It's the name my parents christened me with. I haven't gone by that since I was eleven years old."

"Is that what you'd like me to call you?"

"Yes, that would be nice." replied Atton, as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

* * *

She knew this was a dream. It had to be. She could always tell the difference between her dreams and reality. But this one...it was so close to reality, so vivid...and then she realized why. It was because it had happened.

She watched herself from afar, Mataki the General, in her tent with some lieutenants, a few soldiers and some defensive guard droids. A message came back over the radio. The man next to her flicked a switch, and the message played to all those in the tent.

"_Commander Riwas reporting, over," came the voice._

"_Go ahead commander," came Mataki's voice._

"_General, we completed a sweep of the area. All threats have been eliminated."_

_A small cheer erupted from the men and women within the tent. Mataki, however, frowned. When a sweep was conducted radio messages were often relayed back and forth from control command – where they were – back to the units in operation. Delta Company (Commander's Riwas' group) did not report back save for when they had touched down on enemy territory. And in the span of four long hours, this was the second message they had received. She feared the worst._

"_Commander, do you require a medevac unit? How many – " she spoke before she was interrupted._

"_None of us were injured, General. Zippo. We came, we saw, we conquered."_

_Mataki couldn't keep the relief out her voice. She smiled as she spoke. "Good job, Commander! Good job! I'll take a Slicker and be down there as soon as I can." _

"_My boys did what they had to do, General. See you in a few. Riwas out."_

_And then, the dream shifted forwards as Mataki watched herself part the curtains of the tent to reveal the jungle plains of Dxun. Dread crept slowly and steadily into her heart. She saw herself climb into the standard Slicker, a primitive but effective means of low altitude transport that was often used to drop med packs, food and other supplies to various Republic camps on Dxun. It flew using a small propeller and large rotor blades that allowed for it to hover over a region for an extended period of time._

_In the midst of mist, gentle rain and the whup-whup of the Slicker's blades, she descended onto newly secured territory. She could see the hidden encampment of the Mandalorians and as soon as she touched ground, she ran towards it._

_Smoke and still-burning fires emerged from the small houses along with an acrid stench. The troops must have used sulfur incendiaries. But there was something else there. Something she hadn't smelled before._

_Commander Riwas emerged from out of nowhere, his blaster still at his side and smoking from recent use. He saluted her, and then talked – his voice still full of adrenaline._

"_General, have I got something to show you," he led her by the arm. Behind a row of heavy foliage, he brought her to a group of people. Mostly women, some were children. They had huddled together tightly in a group, with Republic soldiers guarding them well. Mataki stared in particular at one woman – part of her clothing had been burned off – leaving what she thought was exposed skin, no...no skin, it was the ragged pinkness of flesh. The woman was in shock, she noticed, looking around her in a bewildered fashion. She was muttering something...it sounded like gibberish. _

_Then suddenly, a child – perhaps on seeing Mataki, who wasn't bearing a weapon – leaped forward from the crowd and ran up to her. He held out his hands, open, asking. Asking for what? She didn't have the opportunity to find out. The thwang of laser fire rang out and stopped the boy in his tracks. He fell to the ground, his hands and feet jerking spasmodically before he lay still in the dirt._

"_You – " began Mataki in astonishment. She had never seen a child been killed up this close before. _

"_He was threatening you, General," said Riwas darkly. "Can't take your eye off these bastards. They indoctrinate the kids too."_

_Finally she came to her senses. "Commander, **who are these people?** They're natives, not Mandalorians,"_

_He shook his head. "That's where we were all tricked. They aided them. Showed us their fake smiles and then betrayed us at the first chance they got. Remember Operation Ricochet?"_

_Mataki's mouth parted slightly. How could she forget? She personally chose to be the commander of that squad that took on Operation Ricochet. They were to press forward into denser portions of the jungle, something dangerous in itself because the Mandalorians knew their terrain well. They employed cunning use of guerilla warfare, digging underground tunnels for them to move about in, laying mines hidden beneath the tall grass. Mines. _

_It took the lives of three-quarters of her men. Plasma, sonic, poison, you name it, it was there. After the first few were accidentally detonated by some of her men, the other grew panicked. Some didn't know what to do, so they ran in scattered directions triggering more mines. Some lost legs. One man...dear God, Deacon was his name, she had seen his body – it was almost ripped in half. How he was still alive – how was the human body so rubbery – how did it get to be so perverse, this war? Mataki had to leap onto the man nearest to her – his arm was already torn off, she had struggled on top of him to keep him from detonating more mines._

_Whoever did this, they would pay._

"_I remember that mission, Commander." she said, trying to maintain her composure._

"_These are the rats that helped them. They hid one of the Mandalorians inside their houses. They lied about it and they're going to pay for it. They helped kill our men." spat Riwas. "We were given orders to neutralize this site. Eliminate potential threats." He turned from her and looked at the huddled group of people. Riwas pointed his gun at them. "Should we carry out our orders?"_

_The torn limbs, the anguished cries together with the loss of the lives of her comrades filled her mind. _

"_Go ahead." she spoke._

_And then she watched in silence as the prisoners were gunned down before her eyes._

She opened her eyes from the dream slowly. The lush vegetation of Dxun was a terrible comparison to that of this cold, dark room. And yet, there was nowhere else she wanted to be. Mataki reached out for something to hold. Her hand touched a dirty brown sack, and she brought it towards her, clinging on to it tightly as she fell back into sleep – and troubles dreams.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note (05/08/06)**

Long time no write. Mostly due to writer's block. I was somewhat sick of the position I had written myself into and was fed up with the characters. I realize now that I cannot write long fan fiction stories – and that it was time to bring this story to a close. But not without one last effort at trying to make this into something good. This is not the last chapter, there may be a few more to go, but I feel like I'm gathering some much needed momentum to reach the finishing line.

The second reason for the delay was my getting involved in playing the new Tomb Raider game. It's incredible and I have to confess to being a Lara Croft fan. If you get the opportunity to get your hands on it, go for it. Apart from the game being rather short (which I didn't mind), it's loads of fun.

Anyhow, thanks to all the reviewers who had the patience to keep reading and take the time to write reviews. Although I do enjoy writing and begin writing primarily for my enjoyment, your reviews play a huge role in helping me to keep going. They really do.

Before you read on, the end of this chapter gets a little gory, just so you know.

P.S. Can anyone spot a Lord of the Rings line? Anyone? Anyone?

* * *

"He is mine to carry, not yours," grunted Bastila as she shouldered the weight of the Sith Lord. "You can help by taking points in front of me – I won't be able to defend us from my position,"

Her Jedi companion – Roan, her silvery hair stained black with dirt, dust and debris, spoke in protest. "Bastila, there are still apprentices on board – we have to get out quickly." Her eyes darted back from Revan's limp form back to Bastila.

"I'm not leaving him." she stated resolutely.

"He's dead, or dying," insisted Hyder, his eyes growing increasingly worried by the minute. "Do you know who hit us?" he asked, turning to his two comrades.

Bastila shook her head, no.

"Malak," muttered Roan. "I saw an insignia – it wasn't one of the Republic cruisers. _Oh Force_..." her voice grew quieter. "I think they're coming round for another try. I can feel it."

"_Malak hit us?_ He tried to kill his own master?" spoke Hyder in disbelief. And then, as the information sunk in, "Of course...the Sith...it makes sense."

"_Please_, Bastila – time is of the essence, let's move," Roan said urgently.

"Not without Revan. If you leave him here, then you leave me as well." She stared at them in a form of silent confrontation.

There was no time for discussion, no time to weigh out all their options. As if to urge them on, the muted – but clearly audible – sound of a shrill siren could be heard ringing aboard the ship.

"Watch our backs," muttered Hyder finally, "...this is going to be rough."

Bastila smiled appreciatively, and the trio moved forward.

* * *

The lights on board were flashing now, on and off...on and off, it was getting increasingly difficult to remain calm and keep oneself from jumping at every corner they reached. They had to almost completely rely on the Force; their eyes – with the constant dramatic switches from light to dark – were deceiving them, but it was hard to imagine any impending danger considering their current location.

They approached a three-way juncture, and paused.

"Mine," whispered Roan as she pointed at the floor a few feet ahead of them. I trip-wire lay across the small intersection, nearly invisible to the untrained eye. "Can you manage, Bastila?" she asked, not turning around, as she tentatively stepped over the wire.

"I see it, yeah, I'm fine. Let's keep moving." she replied.

Bastila turned around, trying to walk backwards, still shouldering the limp body of Revan. Given her position, she knew she could do no good in a fight, but at least she might be able to warn her friends.

They made a left turn at the juncture and as they kept walking, Bastila felt something moist and warm on one side of her face and neck. She looked up and saw vapour seeping in from the sides of the ceiling. Was this the result of a malfunctioning anti-fire system? As they moved on, she kept looking up. The air was getting hotter.

And then it hit her.

"Steam vents!" she shouted to her companions. "We're going into the fuel lines – we're going the wrong way! They can see us – they're going to cook us alive if they can!"

"Back up, back up!"

They stumbled towards the intersection. "Which way?" shouted Hyder.

"I don't remember,"

"Right, wasn't it right?"

"That's the way we came!" spoke Bastila, her voice close to panic. "Straight ahead. Let's go straight!"

"Watch out for the wire," reminded Hyder as they walked on. "This is very bad. If they set off the vents, they can see us."

"We turned off security cams, so how...?" questioned Roan.

"Thermal sensors," realized Bastila.

They stopped in their tracks, confused and frightened. If their movement was being monitored – they might as well chuck their escape plans out the hatch. Suddenly, Hyder grinned in a moment of darkness. "Let's blind 'em." He moved behind Bastila, pulled out a plasma grenade and tucked his index finger under the pin.

"Wait," cautioned Roan. "With the structural damaged this ship has taken – how do we know we won't be sealing our own coffins?"

He looked at her, his eyes wide. In the flashing lights, his face looked other-worldly. "Our chances of getting out of this alive are dropping by the minute. If I'm going down, we're taking them with us."

"That's not the Jedi way," protested Roan, but without conviction.

"Do it." ordered Bastila. "Let's argue over semantics later."

Hyder moved away from the two other Jedi, pulled out the pin, and flung the grenade as far as he could throw it. He heard a loud fizz, thought for a second that it was a dud, and was contradicted when he saw the blinding white flash and felt the stinging heat. He silently mouthed the word _boom _as he watched the fiery spectacle in awe, and ran to rejoin his companions.

He made it just in time to see Roan up ahead, in front of Bastila, ignite her blue saber. He saw another light – red – rise to confront hers. Hyder ran past Bastila with hurried words, "Try to keep our morale up, eh?"

Bastila channeled her energy into the powerful technique of battle meditation, instilling confidence and courage into the minds of her comrades. They seemed to fight in unison now, pushing their Sith opponent back further and further. She followed them at a slow pace, feeling Revan's weight grow by the minute.

The Sith apprentice raised his hand and threw a strong wavelike force in their direction. Hyder and Roan simultaneously repelled it, watching as the apprentice fell back. They seized the moment and flung themselves at him, their opponent could do nothing but fend off their blows as best he could as they came down towards him. Hyder chose to strike from the right whilst Roan did so from the left. Bastila watched as the three colours swirled about, meeting each other in conflict, humming and clashing with intensity. The red blade grazed Hyder's shoulder, causing the Jedi to grunt in pain slightly. The Sith was somewhat energized by this small feat and was distracted momentarily. It was all Roan needed to twirl her lightsaber gracefully in her hands and bring it up to the Sith's neck, stopping just short of slaying him.

"Surrender." she hissed.

The Sith gritted his teeth. "So you can instill your dogmatic notions into my mind...just like you're going to do to that poor man there?" he nodded at Revan's slumped form. "Not a chance. You'll have to kill me first."

"Is that truly what you want?" asked Hyder.

"Watch me." Roan's lightsaber still at his neck, he gripped his own with both hands and in a lightning-swift motion turned the blade around to face his body. Within seconds it was over. He had taken his own life.

Hyder stared down at the corpse. "He could have lived. He could have lived," he repeated.

"He was outnumbered. He couldn't have won – he just...made his choice." Roan said quietly, trying to console them both.

But it was no consolation, simply a waste of words. They both knew that he fought for one sole purpose. Belief. And the thought that one's entire foundation was based on destruction, pain and death scared them more than anything. However, the contemplation of their fears was short-lived. Moments later, a blast rocked the core of the ship.

"Malak!" shouted Roan. "Go, go, go!"

They ran this time, brandishing their laser swords in hand, down a narrow corridor and towards the exit. No one stood in their way. The ship seemed desolated, eerie, and ready to fall.

They made their way to the docking bay, and stopped before entering.

"Our ship's still there?" asked Bastila from behind.

Roan peered out carefully. "Yup," she acknowledged.

"No guards?" asked Hyder.

"Not that I can see..."

"They've gotta be there," spoke Roan anxiously. "We need some kind of distraction."

"Malak's doing our job for us. I think everyone's jumped ship. Except us," responded Hyder.

"Let's run for it." Bastila said. "Hyder, help me with him," she shifted some of Revan's weight into the other man's arms.

They charged up the loading ramp nervously. Roan speeded her way towards the cockpit. She primed the ship's engines. A deep thrumming rang out underneath them – the hyperdrive was ready to go.

"You folks strapped in and ready?" she called out.

"Punch it!" shouted Hyder.

The ship's ramp retracted and it lifted, backing up slowly out of the large hatchway. Within seconds, it flew away from Revan's large cruiser. Bastila watched in silence as a series of hits from Malak's vessel bombarded that which they had just been on. The battered cruiser tilted sharply downwards and split into three large parts – the third of which exploded instantly.

They had made it.

* * *

He was smiling blissfully before he was awakened. He opened his eyes – half expecting to see the familiar wooden walls of his home amongst the trees – it took a few moments for reality to sink in. Javin groaned, realizing where he was, and sat up. He instantly hit his head on a large pipe that had been torn out of the wall, and rubbed his head whilst grumbling.

"Wished you've stayed on Endor, don't you?" came out Mataki's voice.

"I'm not quite ready for "I-told-you-so's" this early in the morning, Elori,"

She sniffed at him disdainfully. "It's not morning. It's late afternoon. Come on, we've _really_ got to get going. The others are already up."

He turned to her, suddenly alert. "The "others"? You mean, Jaq, he's coming with us?"

"Yes. Do you have a problem with it?"

"_Me?_" laughed Javin, pointing at himself. "Oh, heavens, no. I'm more worried about Yustan. It...must have been bad for her. Whatever Jaq did, that is. And you know she's not one to exaggerate – so I can't say that I blame her for whatever she's feeling."

"Don't worry about Yustan, I'll take care of her. Come on, grab your stuff. We've got too much to do and too little time to do it in." She helped him to his feet and walked over to Yustan, who was standing by the entrance of their temporary home.

Yustan stood, leaning against the wall, her arms folded defensively across her abdomen and her lightsaber clearly visible to all those in the room. But the warning it was directed at – given its plain view – could clearly be seen if one chose to follow her steady, committed, gaze. It rested on Atton, who was sitting cross-legged on a large crate, trying to appear at ease although he was clearly suffering under something other than physical discomfort.

Mataki inhaled deeply as she approached Yustan. Speaking softly as she could to keep the others from hearing, she spoke to her friend. "I know that what happened last night was something you obviously didn't want. When I dragged him in here, I thought I wanted the same thing."

"But obviously, _something_ changed your mind." said Yustan, a little sourly. And the almost immediately, she changed her tone. "Look, this is exactly what I don't want. I don't want _him_ to come in between the three of us and what we have to get done. I can't trust him."

"And I'm not demanding that you do, Yustan," Elori said calmly. "I just don't want to see him get killed – not this way, where he won't have a fighting chance."

"But we weren't going to kill him, were we? As much as I'd love to strangle his neck with my own hands, that wasn't going to be my choice. We were supposed to turn him in to the Republic."

"That," said Mataki, dropping his head slightly and looking out from knowing eyes at her friend, "...is exactly what would get him killed. The Republic's law enforcement agencies are stretched to thin – as are their intelligence sources. You know how it is. They've resorted to hiring whoever they can get...opting for quantity over quality. There are guaranteed to be leaks. He wouldn't even have the luxury of entering a Republic prison. Someone like him," she shook her head sadly, "...would get killed en route." Mataki raised her hands pointing out the futile nature of it all, "And even then, who would care? The Republic? Another threat to the Jedi would be eliminated. They would have the benefit of an execution without a trial. Justice without the paperwork."

Yustan saw the light behind Mataki's words, but smiled grimly. "I don't really have a problem with him becoming a statistic."

"I do." stated Mataki firmly. "Because I was going to turn him in with the full intention of seeing him killed."

Yustan's eyes widened slightly. This person, who she greatly respected...she felt as if she was discovering more of her each day. And her new findings weren't entirely comforting.

As if sensing her thoughts, Mataki spoke. "It's not completely gone – the person who I was. I don't think she ever will be. Sometimes I have to do all I can to keep her from resurfacing."

Yustan ran her toungue over her dry lips. "It's a personal war you wage, isn't it?"

"I don't deserve this indulgence, this drama. Someone like me – I should be executed for war crimes. But I was given a second chance,"

"...and you believe he should as well."

Mataki nodded. "But how he should live – I leave it up to you. That aspect of his fate is solely your choice. He's offered us his help and to tell us what he knows. We can take one or the other – "

" – or both." Yustan said. "Oh Elori, you are a shrewd one." She looked at her friend, her serious expression turning into a smile of appreciation. "You know me too well...and in too short a time." She sighed. "He's been in enemy territory – heck, he _was_ the enemy. Whatever information he has, will be valuable to us. And I would much rather him stay close by than set him loose on the populace. You know what they say..."

"..._Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer_," repeated the two women in synchrony.

They eyed each other and grinned.

* * *

And so Atton had told them everything he knew. He was rather reluctant at first – primarily due the fact that he was ratting on a nefarious group, and secondly because he was not a squealer. He held many dishonourable deeds under his belt, but disloyalty was something he could not find in himself to condone. But then again, ratting on the Sith was not exactly akin to betraying a friend. Last night's encounter had changed him, if not completely, enough to make him rethink certain aspects of his character...and do something about it.

Change was never easy. Truth was such a difficult mirror to gaze into at times – especially for him. But looking at Elori, knowing that she was murderer like him, eased the burden somewhat. In short, he had evidence that it was possible to hack one's way through the distasteful jungle of one's past and maybe come out alive. Scathed, but still alive.

Nonetheless, it was going to be slow progress and he was aware that there would be times when he would be tempted to slide back into his dark pits. And there lay the other reason for why he needed her and her friends. There was an undeniable bond between the three of them – he could feel it. Their burdens, worries and fears were divided. Perhaps not equally, but definitely lesser than the whole. He wanted so badly – although he would never show it – to be part of them. What was it that they had called it during routine training? Group solidarity – that was it. A group of individuals who underwent traumatic events together became physically and emotionally dependent on one another.

If he was to slip back, who would be there to pull him out?

Elori? Maybe. He couldn't say for sure. She didn't hate him – _that_ much he knew. But there was that certain degree of mistrust. But who could blame her? Should their positions have been reversed, he would have behaved the same way.

_But you trust her, don't you? _he heard a voice say.

_I suppose you could say that_.

_Why is that?_

_Because she sees the devil in me and chooses not to turn away_.

He looked at her as he finished telling them about the layout of parts of the academy on Korriban. Her face was impassive, but he knew she was all ears, soaking up all this information. Processing it, trying to manipulate it to her advantage. Would she be appreciative? Would she pat him on the back and say, _boy, you've been a great help to us, Atton, why don't you tag along for the ride? We sure could use a good man like you by our side_.

Inside himself, he laughed bitterly.

He wasn't exactly the reliable sort. And he had quite the spectacular resume to the contrary. Problem was that the boy, the woman he let escape and the woman who let _him_ escape had all read the fine print. Even he would consider a move to permit him to leave as ridiculous as they come. Still, hope couldn't help but tug at his sleeve, wondering whether there was some light around the corner, should he decide to turn.

"You're not planning on _intercepting_ Revan as he goes to Korriban, are you?" interrupted the boy.

"Of course not," Elori said.

"You might as well try to stop a proton torpedo, kid," quipped Atton.

"Well. Anything can be stopped. You just have to find out the 'how' – that's the hard part." Javin responded.

"Alright then. So _how_ do _we_ intend to stop a Dark Lord who's hell bent on consuming the galaxy?" shot Yustan suddenly.

They all turned to look at her, a little taken aback.

She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Hey, someone needed to ask it."

"You can't do it alone – you'll probably need all the help you can get." Atton said.

Yustan crossed her arms and gave him her most hypocritical smile. "Oh...and are you volunteering?"

Atton's face pulled itself downwards into a scowl. He was itching to make a pithy comeback, but kept his trap shut. Yustan knew he would do so and took great pleasure in him absorbing her insult. Scowl sweeping off his face an instant later, he took the hit and swung back on topic.

"You'll need more than four pairs of hands – is what I'm saying. How the hell you guys intend to topple a Sith regime is beyond me. Let's count the allies you have on your side..." he paused, ticking them off on his fingers, "...the Jedi, the Republic. Two." He held his fingers up for everyone to see. "Both of which are really, _really_ worn down. And the Sith have endless resources. For every ship you destroy, you'll see two more rise up to take its place."

"So we obviously can't meet them head on. That's understood," Javin said, insistent on making some headway in this conversation.

"You suggest a stealth attack?" asked Yustan, turning to the boy.

"Yes, but _where?_ We need to know where they're striking from!" exclaimed Mataki.

"Can't you pool your knowledge together with that of the Jedi? Surely you'll make some progress that way." suggested Javin.

Yustan shook her head. "We can't go back. We were told never to return."

Javin laughed in disbelief. "I think you can stand taking a hit to your egos considering the circumstances." He looked to Elori. "What do you say? Don't you think it makes sense?"

She didn't respond and frowned quietly to herself. It seemed logical. But it made too much sense, which was what worried her. The Sith were at war with both the Republic and the Jedi. A victory over Coruscant was too close to home and would cripple far too much... In addition to that, the Jedi would take more time than she deemed necessary to deliberate on a course of action. The Sith, knowing their enemies well, would prey upon that weakness. She was certain it wouldn't be long before they dealt a severe blow to the heart of the Jedi.

"No." she responded finally.

Javin threw up his hands helplessly. Mataki smiled at his youthful impatience. "That doesn't mean we're out of ideas." she said.

Yustan raised a curious eyebrow.

"But I'd better think on this awhile." Mataki clasped her hands together and rose up suddenly, in a gesture intent on leaving their dismal little room. "Right. Let's go find ourselves a new ship, shall we?"

As the four emerged from their dank refuge, Javin couldn't help but turn to Mataki and ask her, "You really have a tangible plan here, or are we all being strung along?"

She grinned and tapped the side of her head lightly with her index finger. "It's in here, trust me. But as scheming as I am," Javin couldn't help but chuckle, "...this _does_ require some serious mulling over."

* * *

Atton walked out of the cantina with a self-satisfied grin pasted on his face. He found Yustan and Javin waiting for him outside, and approached them.

"Well look at you, mister big-shot," Javin couldn't help but smile back, "Got something accomplished, eh?"

"Damn straight. We found ourselves a tasty little boat."

"I trust you're not talking about gravy," quipped Yustan, not smiling.

Atton ignored her and looked at their company. "Say, where's Elori?"

"She said she had some business to take care of." Yustan said. "Anyway, where's this ship?"

But Atton wasn't quite ready to get moving – he wished to further indulge himself through his triumph. "So would you like to know how I got what you couldn't accomplish in two days, done in a matter of an hour?"

"No, not really, no." Yustan said.

"Yeah, go on, tell us." chuckled Javin.

Yustan shot him a look.

"Let's go into the cantina for another round, and I'll tell ya." Atton said, walking in front of them.

Javin leaned over into Yustan's ear. "We have to wait for Elori anyway. Might as well pass the time somehow."

"I don't see why we have to cater to his whims though..." she whispered rather reluctantly as they passed through the entrance and into a world where drink was your best friend and time ceased to exist.

* * *

"It could prove extremely dangerous," said the woman's voice through the comm. link.

"What choice do we have at this point? If we knew where their base of operations was, then perhaps..." spoke Mataki, her eyebrows furrowing.

The woman sighed. "If you do not consider your life valuable, at least consider those that travel with you."

"I will have to leave them, of course."

"Without an explanation...?"

Mataki spoke impatiently, "Obviously, I'll tell them. I cannot endanger their lives, but at the same time I cannot allow for this madness to continue. If Malak picks up where Revan left off... If he continues at this rate...there will be nothing left to save. There will be Sith and those who've turned to adopt their ideals. I may not fully agree with the Jedi, but better the devil you know than the devil you don't."

The woman laughed without mirth. "You will never change. But...I've accepted that, my friend, and I'm glad for it. You should keep one more thing in mind, though. Malak...is different. He lacks the subtlety of attack that Revan possessed. That could be both good and bad. We could exploit that weakness with minds like yours, but he may also boldly strike at systems that Revan has refrained from destroying. In doing so, he could destroy ecosystems, entire species, artifacts..."

"You don't sense an attack on Coruscant, do you?" Mataki asked immediately.

The woman remained silent.

Mataki's heart leapt in fear. "You do," she said, barely audible.

"Not just Coruscant, my dear. Trevira, Dantooine...everywhere we've established small enclaves. Malak knows. How, I don't know. All I can assume is that Revan was somehow aware of the existence of such places and now Malak has become privy to this information. He will not wait. Patience is not in his nature."

"Get the Jedi out – you have to go into hiding!" exclaimed Mataki, clenching her fists.

"No, Elori. You know I cannot do that. That would expose our clandestine 'correspondence'. And as sad as I am to say it, this has given me more hope than the plans of all the Masters put together. You were right. They refuse to act. But we must not blame – I see that now. It is extremely difficult, even for myself, to turn from that which I was immersed in since childhood."

"I beg you, ask them to push their arrogance aside. Guarding an ideal is all well and good, but if you're not around to protect it..." insisted Mataki.

"I will do what I can. But they will not leave."

"There are younglings!"

"The younglings are Jedi. There is no differentiation, Elori. I suppose we could hide them in secret, but I am certain this plan of ours will be found out. And if they get wind of that, sooner or later, it will fail."

Elori leaned back and rubbed her eyes. "It is a heavy price we pay. No man should ever have to sacrifice their children." She slammed her fist down on the table. "Damn the Jedi!"

"Spilt milk." said the other woman sadly. "Our cries are in vain now. Save for those who see with their heart, I cannot hold much hope for the rest."

Elori closed her eyes wearily. "Then we shall carry on with what we have to do. You will agree to do this, then?"

"Yes." said the woman painfully. And then, her pain stepped aside, giving way to a voice that was attempting to be strong amidst all the chaos. "We will draw them out. I need not remind you that you may well pay for this with your life. They will hunt you down relentlessly – oh, how I wish I could be at your side!"

"I need you to stay alive. In case. In case I'm not able to finish what we started out to do."

The other woman sounded equally tired. "When would you like me to leak the information as to your whereabouts?"

"Two days from now. Regardless of whether you hear from me or not, you will have to do this. No turning back."

"I will do my part, my friend. Through my life or death, if I can aid you, then I will."

"I know." Mataki said.

"I suppose...I suppose it's time now for me to leave. If I don't speak with you again, then perhaps –"

"– one way or another we will meet again. Take care." said Mataki grimly as she shut off the comm. link and stared off into nothingness. She was never one for goodbyes.

* * *

Yustan saw her approach their table first, and walked as fast as she could without running towards her. She slowed down as she got a better, more lighted, view of her friend. Her face appeared emaciated and fatigued – she looked almost elderly. It was the second time in the span of two days...all this excitement was taking its toll on her, or so it seemed.

"Maybe we ought to take a break from saving the galaxy, and save ourselves, eh?" Yustan said lightly, despite the worry in her eyes. "I know an excellent spa on Alderaan..."

Mataki rolled her eyes and smiled. "Sounds wonderful. Better yet, let's draft a treaty with the Sith – and promise them seventy percent discounts at this spa of yours. We could all do with a good massage, and I'm sure they'd agree."

Yustan smiled wistfully at the improbable thought. "All levity aside, did you get what you needed to get done?" They started walking slowly towards where Javin and Atton were seated.

Mataki nodded. "Any luck with finding us a ship?"

"One point to you, old girl, for keeping that slime ball around. He managed to get us a ship." She paused, trying to refrain from smiling. "You ready for this? He won it in a pazaak match. The poor fellow who was on the losing end was a widower who had reached the end of his tether, betting all of his savings..._and_ his ship. He needed it to fund an operation for his daughter."

Mataki looked aghast.

"Don't worry, I gave the poor chap more than enough credits to compensate him." explained Yustan.

Mataki pursed her lips. "Remind me later on to have a talk with Atton, will you?"

"Oh, certainly. And if you need a little muscle by your side..."

The smile vanished from Mataki's face suddenly and she quickly turned to face her friend. "The sooner we leave here, the better. Revan's um...to put it lightly, he's been dethroned."

"Revan's dead!" exclaimed Yustan loudly.

Mataki hushed her before continuing. "Sort of. Which leaves Malak."

"_Oh hell_,"

Mataki gave her an empathizing gaze. "I know. He'll stop at nothing to eliminate his enemies, be they Republic, Jedi or simply put...anyone who isn't Sith. He probably doesn't know about us, which gives us the advantage. But we _must _keep moving."

Yustan quickened her pace towards Javin and Atton. Elori followed up behind her. They quickly rose from their seats, Javin first. He was eager to leave Nar Shadaar and its smell behind. Judging from Elori's worn face, he guessed that the feeling was mutual. The four individuals said nothing to each other, left some credits for the waiter, and exited the cantina as somberly as they had come in.

* * *

The docking station's seemingly boundless stream of people did not diminish as the evening wore on. There was a multiple array of sounds coming in from all directions. Most seemed as eager to leave the planet as they were to enter, the thought of which baffled Javin. He tried to keep close to his three comrades as best he could. He kept his eye on Yustan's bright auburn hair which was easy to spot, as her head bobbed up amongst the crowds. To his right, his face was agape with amazement as he saw a family of fifteen wait noisily in line to be scanned and permitted to enter. The thirteen children – were they brothers and sisters or cousins, he simply couldn't tell – were identical in height and features, even their voices. They were nasal and high pitched – he thought it was funny how whining didn't really differ amongst species – and he raised his hands to ears to block out the noise.

As he did so, he sensed a feeling of quiet dread stir within him. His stomach churned inexplicably, and he involuntarily tightened his muscles as if readying himself for something. He brought his hands away from his ears and turned his head sharply, this way and that, searching for the cheery colour of Yustan's hair. It was nowhere to be seen and as his movements grew to be slightly panicked, he was taken off guard.

The blow came out of nowhere. It pulled him downwards, onto his knees, and before him whizzed a blur of legs and feet. He felt something grip his neck – someone's arm, he thought – but he couldn't see it, and his fear grew steadily each second. His body was being bent backwards. Instinctively, he brought his hands to pry his invisible assailant'sarm away. He heard a malicious hiss in his ear which froze his movements.

"Go on," it said. "Try to scream."

He tried. No sound came out.

* * *

Atton held a small ticket in his hand, and looked up as Elori came up behind him. He pointed to a decrepit-looking red and white ship up several yards ahead of him. "That's her, says so on this registry number."

Elori turned her neck to look for Yustan and Javin, but they were so difficult to spot amidst the multitude of people. Her shoulders drooped. They should have arranged to meet somewhere should this sort of thing occur. Suddenly she saw Yustan emerge from her left. On seeing Mataki's face, she whirled around.

"Where's Javin?" Yustan asked.

Mataki looked at her with a somewhat accusatory gaze. "He's not with you?"

Yustan shook her head slowly, and her eyes fell downwards and then moved off to her right, behind them. "We're being followed..." she mouthed silently.

"He's not with you!" shouted Mataki, teetering on the verge of panic.

Yustan suddenly met her eyes with the truth.

All colour drained from Mataki's face, and her strength waned. Her voice sounded hoarse and it broke as she spoke. "_Please_. Let's find him."

Atton, who had silently been watching the interplay between the two women, spoke quickly. "Let's stay together. If we're being followed, we'd be easy pickings on our own."

The three made their way into the congregation.

* * *

After five agonizing minutes of searching, Mataki saw the familiar face of her brother. She made as if to run forward and then stopped abruptly on seeing his awkward position. He was seated on his knees, his body bending backwards, with a trickle of blood pouring from his neck down onto his white shirt. Already, she noticed, the blood had begun to darken to a musty brown. Her eyes blazed and oblivious to her two friends, she moved forward steadily through the crowd.

Unexpectedly, there was a loud groan that seemed as if the entire station was in pain. The ground shuddered a little and quickly all was still. Until Atton shouted, "Incendiary! Everybody hit the deck!"

The people started to scream, some ran aimlessly as some dropped to the floor. Then something louder than the manic yells of the crowd ricocheted against the walls of the docking station. The lights in the station flickered desperately and then went out, leaving nothing but the moon and the poor light of Nar Shadaar's buildings to help them see. Atton brought his hands up to his ears, but it was still deafening. He kept his eyes open and saw Elori move through the flattened bodies towards Javin. His eyes were then caught by abnormal movement above him.

Part of the ceiling was caving in. And she was right below it. He yelled out to her from his ridiculous position on the floor, but she couldn't hear him.

* * *

Elori could hear Atton's voice screaming at her. But in her mind, she blotted it out. She was already aware of the falling ceiling. Shards of metal and asphalt – rained down on her. She picked up her pace and fell into a steady jog, trying to evade the larger chunks, making her way towards Javin. A sharp piece of metal, glinting as it rained down, shoved its way into her shoulder blades and she closed her eyes as she yelled out in pain. It was followed by an avalanche of debris, and she succeeded to some extent in evading it, before something pinned her legs down. She was forced to the floor and kicked out in vain to free herself. Her face reddened with frustration, and she reached out with one hand towards her brother. His head was still thrown backwards in that painfully mocking position, and the trickle of blood had grown into a steady flow. Her face contorted in agony and she let out a primal scream of hatred, anguish and bitterness.

Out of nowhere, Yustan leapt to her side, and hurriedly began to attempt to remove the heavy rocks around her friend.

"**NO!**" yelled Mataki fiercely, as she shoved her friend's hands away. "Javin!"

Yustan paused briefly, as if uncertain, and then nodded as she backed away. Mataki watched the other woman throw her cloak behind her, reach to her side and pull out her lightsaber.

"_Please, you must save him_," beseeched Elori even though Yustan was beyond hearing.

She heard the lightsaber ignite, and saw a flash of yellow. She watched, her body cold and sweating with fright, as Yustan leapt into the air to face an adversary Mataki could not see. She watched as Yustan was kicked backwards by an invisible assailant, and saw the woman slice through the air. And then she saw a man, no, not a man, something clothed in the guise of a man. Its face was masked behind dark cloth. It fell with the scream of death, and Yustan whirled around to face another invisible attacker.

Mataki turned her attention to her trapped feet and began to loosen the rocks around them. As she freed her right foot, she heard a scream of pain – it was Yustan – there was a deep gash across her upper arm, and in the midst of the chaos she saw Javin crawling towards her, he was bleeding – but, _God_, he was alive... She silently urged him to move quickly, faster, to safety.

* * *

Atton got onto his feet quickly as he saw Yustan struggle with something he couldn't comprehend. He stumbled on some large bits of debris as he moved forward, and looked quickly to his left where Elori lay. He gave her a concerned look, but she moved her eyes from him to where Yustan was fighting a losing battle. He nodded.

He placed his hand on his blaster at his side. He took several second to study where Yustan was being attacked from. Narrowing his eyes, he pulled out his blaster and aimed. The first shot was successful. He got the bastard right in the head. Atton grinned. He aimed and fired, but only injured the second. The second shot brought him down. Time was running out, though. The red-head simply could not take on such adversaries – especially when she could not see how many there were. He moved closer and started to shoot randomly, hoping no bystanders would get in the way.

Atton watched with a kind of fascinated dread as the lightsaber in Yustan's hand flew into the air and landed several feet away from her. Something caused her to keel over and within a matter of seconds, she was being dragged off by the scruff of her neck, like a piece of meat across the floor.

He closed his eyes.

He was too late.

_No, you're never too late. You wanted a shot at redemption, fella? Well, it's right at your door_.

He opened his eyes and ran forward in pursuit.

* * *

Finally free, she limped towards her injured brother and fell next to him. She placed her hands on his face, his neck and his torso, checking for serious injuries.

"I'm fine," he croaked. "Really."

She ignored him, continuing to check, and then finally satisfied, she helped him up. Elori wiped the blood off his neck with her own hand.

"I don't think we're alone..." she said at last. She brought something from inside her cloak. "Here," she handed him a lightsaber, Yura's lightsaber. "It's not much, but it might hold them at bay."

"I don't know how to wield one of these," began Javin.

"It's in your blood. Just stay behind me. How many more?"

"Twelve," Javin said wearily. "I think Atton may have wounded them slightly – their stealth generators are down. And the one who got me – he's different. Be careful of him. I don't think he's the type who takes no for an answer."

Mataki looked around her and saw a vibro-sword glint in the moonlight. It lay amongst one of their fallen enemies. She picked it up and smiled grimly. "Good. Then we think alike."

* * *

She was lucky. They ignored Javin and came straight for her instead. One shoved his dual bladed sword at her side and she curved her body, evading it narrowly. She took advantage of the situation and brought her sword down heavily onto his head. She turned onto her next opponent, she didn't need to ensure if the first was dead, she knew he was. The second hissed as he twirled his sword above his head, and instinctively Mataki knew this was a distraction. She jumped around and found her sword clashing with someone behind her. He tried with all his might to force hers down, but she directed his strength elsewhere – to the floor. Kicking out with one foot at the twirling idiot, she shoved her sword into the third's throat. The one with the fancy moves had now fallen on his back. Mataki placed her foot on his throat, cocked her head to one side and holding her sword like one would a dagger, she stabbed it into his heart.

As she heard his gurgling voice, she smiled. Her pupils dilated more in the darkness and a pleasurable sensation came over her. This was her element and this turf was her playground.

As she moved her sword through the air, she couldn't quite keep track of her own movements nor did she try to. The second group – she wasn't aware of how many there were, met their deaths at her hands in four minutes. She attacked three who came at her at once with a series of flurries – parrying nothing, because she felt she did not need to. She directed her sword's fury at the first and with her free arm she strangled the second. The third grazed his sword several times on her arm, but although she was vaguely aware of it occurring, there was no pain. Pulling out the sword out of the first's body, she finished off what life remained in the already suffocated second, and clashed fiercely with the third. Mataki drove him backwards with her flurries, aching to kill him, instead teasing herself with the taste of his death. Finally...she laughed at him and punched him squarely in the face with her free hand. As he was falling down she swung her sword across his belly.

She wiped blood off her chin as she watched him fall.

And then, in front of her, came a voice.

"You fight well, small warrior. But you are not Jedi...?"

Her eyes flashed and she grinned. "What do you think?"

"I think you are not."

"You think right."

He emerged from the darkness, a towering, imposing figure, holding his weapon in hand. Not a lightsaber, she noticed. But still Sith. Still her victim.

"I don't suppose you would care to join us?" he said, and then laughed. "Of course not, your allegiances lie elsewhere. What a silly question. I should know better. But tell me, your fighting styles – if they are not Jedi, then where did you learn them?"

She flexed the muscles in the fingers of her right hand, testing them. "Now that would be telling."

"Oh, but considering that you will soon meet your end, does it really matter?"

She shook her head, grinning. "You know, the thing about you Sith, is that you don't know when to shut your mouth. Like old washer women – you go on. If you were a true warrior, your heart, your muscles, would ache to get down to the fight. _Like mine are_."

As he looked at her in the moonlight, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. A change came over her face. Through the soaked hair that fell on her face, her eyes glinted and gradually changed its hue. The brownness gradually faded to a dark tinge of violet and then finally red. Like the colour of blackened blood. He watched with slightly wavering confidence as she brought her sword slowly upwards, turning its flat side towards her face. She was acquiescing to the start of a duel, a duel to the death. He had not seen such gestures – he had only read about them in manuscripts that were millennia old. He held his sword loosely at his side, uncertain as to what to do. But then, he dismissed his fear, and scowled. He pointed his weapon at her and walked towards her.

Mataki moved forward, picking up momentum as she did so. He was a heavyset man, and she needed all the strength she could gather. When she was a few feet away from his, she bent into a crouch and sprang. She landed with a soft thud behind him and using both her hands, she swung at him. Just in time, her opponent whirled around to meet her sword. She grazed his chest with the tip of her weapon, and then quickly rolled underneath his sword to gain a new position. He approached her and lashed at her head on. To his growing frustration, she did not thwart his attacks, but simply dodged them with uncanny speed.

He had fervently hoped that this woman was a Jedi. There was no one he could gather more pleasure from in cutting down and no one easier to predict. But this...she was no Jedi. And she fought like no Jedi. She did not rely on the Force. And it made him uncertain. He swung at her harder and with more force. She evaded his thrusts with ease and moved away, drawing him to fight her where she chose, a dangerous move, he knew, but he was in no position to choose.

"_Fight, damn you!"_ he shouted.

She said nothing. Instead she chose to accept his request and brought her sword down on his with a metallic clang. He kicked out with one leg – his sword still outstretched in front of him, hoping to knock her off her own. She jumped up and simultaneously knocked the sword out of his hand. He cried out, and gasped in panic, trying in vain to search for his fallen weapon as he waited for the impending attack. It didn't come.

"It's to your left, behind you." came her apathetic voice. "Hurry and pick it up. I won't advance until you are armed."

He gritted his teeth in fury as he fumbled for his sword. She would pay for making a mockery of him. He spotted his sword and feigned continuing to search for it in an attempt to buy more time. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted her silhouette, like some unearthly being. In the span of a second, he pivoted on his feet and threw his sword with all his strength towards her chest. The next instant, his sword still flying through the air he charged at her, screaming in fury.

As the sword cut noiselessly towards her, she held her own in one hand and used the other to deflect the oncoming attack. She curled her hand into a fist and swung it at her opponent's unheld weapon – it cut the back of her hand with a mighty frenzy, and for a split second remained lodged in her skin, as if stuck within a large red groove. She shook it free, her eyes still focused on her running opponent, and it fell to the floor, defeated.

She brought her own weapon in front of her, and held it steady with both hands. With her feet set apart and her body coiled up like a snake ready to strike, she waited.

Running forward, gaining momentum, he could already tell that he had lost. He was only three yards away. Should he even try to turn, she could get him in the side, or the back. He moved, as if in slow motion, towards the instrument that would cause his death. He felt it pierce his chest first, teasingly, then sear through him like a burning knife, and his strength flowed out of his body with his blood. But he was not dead.

Mataki pulled him towards her using her sword, still in his chest. He had no choice but to comply. She leaned forward and spoke into his ear.

"If your opponent is gracious enough to grant you a second chance, you would do well to know that something as cowardly as what you just did goes strictly against the rules of engagement. And...as you now know, the penalty is death."

She yanked the sword from his heart and he fell down to his knees with a groan. She then plunged it in again, turning it in his flesh as she did so.

"This is for hurting the ones that I love."

She loosed her grip on the sword and brought her hand away. She watched as he remained on his knees, the sword embedded in his torso, his breathing growing shallower by the second. Finally, he let out a tired wheeze...and the life left his eyes.

Mataki's shoulders drooped, and she stepped back.

She didn't hear the soft patter of footsteps to her side. A voice, something that was too pleasant to be of this world, spoke to her.

"_You_..." it said, faltering.

She turned slowly to face the voice. It was Javin. He looked at her with a look of horror in his eyes. It took her a moment to comprehend that it was she who caused him such grievance.

She bowed her head. "So now you know." she spoke softly, her voice no longer impervious to emotion. "I cannot quell what lies within me, Javin. It is neither Jedi nor Sith. I am a killer. I kill and I take pleasure in their deaths," she loosely waved her hand about her and conceded defeat to that which was stronger within her. "And I can't stop it...if those I love are threatened again, should God or the devil stand in my way, I will slay them."

He raised his hand to move her hair from her eyes. They had returned to their normal hue once again.

"Leave me, Javin. Go back to Endor – you don't belong amongst this. Where I'm about to go, you should _never_ have to follow."

"I'll never leave you, sister." he said.

She looked at him curiously, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Somehow, I always knew." he responded. He saw her mangled hand and quickly held it in his own, as he cried. He tore part of his shirt away and started to wrap her wound in it as his tears fell on her skin. "We can find them – Yustan and Atton. Together you and I can find them."

"I'll bring only more death to your eyes – I can't stop it," said Elori.

"No you won't," he said hurriedly and through tears. "We can redeem you. We'll find a way to – we'll find you again. Who you were. And we'll bring you back."

She opened her mouth to say something, but no words emerged. Javin put his arm around her and gently led her to safety. There was not much else to do.


	16. Chapter 16

When she came to, a miniscule part of her wanted to roll its eyes towards the heavens, screaming at the unfairness of it all. But it had to stand down amongst the growing fears that churned away at the contents of her stomach. Yustan continued to stare at the purple shimmering hue of the force shield in her cell in partial disbelief. Parts of her body hurt where she had been hit, and she unconsciously sat rubbing her injured limbs while trying futilely to think of an escape plan. These Sith, they were so _different_. And then she smiled grimly. Not that the kind she was used to would grab the congeniality medal of the year either. But there was something so out-of-place about it all – it was like looking at someone while they were tricking your eyes at the same time. Trying to think harder about likelihood of survival made her heart pound faster, and irrational panic did its best to set in. Memories – nightmares, rather – of her stay on Korriban came flooding back to her, and involuntarily, she began to tremble.

Yustan moved to a cold corner of her cell and drew her knees alongside her chest. She wanted to live. And she wanted to live without any more scars. She started whispering softly to herself...was she praying? If so, who to? She never quite believed in an all-powerful being – only the Force – and she never quite imagined it actually _listened_ to the plight of the weak. She would have to look within herself to use it to get out.

But she was so exhausted.

Just stretching out with her feelings within the proximity of her cell left her drained. Trying to do so outside of this place would leave her near-comatose. Besides –

Suddenly, she heard the metallic clank of boots on floor paneling coming closer. Yustan stiffened, her muscles tightening and readying themselves for the next blow she felt so unwilling to take.

The force shield flickered off, and a Sith soldier – this time, your typical Sith fellow, all clad in bronze armour – waltzed in. She looked up at him through bloodshot eyes, trying to maintain a hold on her calm.

"Up." he spoke.

Her mind was working slowly, and she took her time in deciding whether to comply. In the delaying seconds, the soldier moved forward swiftly and yanked her painfully onto her feet.

"Move." he said, in that unnervingly drab voice.

"My, aren't we monosyllabic today?" she managed to quip – rather weakly.

Perhaps if he chose to fight, she might get lucky and overpower him. But he didn't take the bait and maintained a robotic calm. What now? She certainly couldn't out-run him. One good shot and she would fall. And besides, where would she run to? This ship wasn't owned by the Alderaan Royal Family – it was Sith. Wherever she ran to, she would find no escape. She chided herself, willing herself to remain hopeful. After all, she did escape a Sith-infested planet only a few weeks ago. This small vessel should be chicken feed in comparison. But the truth was her mind, body and soul felt thoroughly defeated. Her mind was chugging away on very little fuel, her muscles felt withered and her soul...her soul felt a great surge of fear. It was the fear of being alone, of dying alone. On Korriban, Ben was with her. In whatever sense of the word, he was alongside her. Here, there was no one. Just herself, and the dark road that lay ahead.

Frightened, frustrated and out of options, Yustan decided to catalyze her circumstances in an all-or-nothing move. She dove for his weapon, and the minute his armor-plated knee met her stomach, she knew she had made a mistake. In the seconds that followed the painful scuffle, he grabbed her hair, pulling her head up to his face-plate.

His voice – low thought it was – grated in her ear.

"Just shut up and do what I say. I'm here to get us both out of here, and the more you struggle, the closer the guillotine falls towards your neck."

It was a lie. A wicked, hurtful, lie. Her eyes brimmed with tears and her heart with hate. He continued to talk into her ear.

"We're on camera all 'round the clock, sweetheart, so let's keep the friendly conversation to a minimum."

That voice! She knew it too well...but it couldn't be, could it? She whispered more to herself than anyone else. "Jaq?"

"Guilty as charged. Now just _shut up_, and do what I say, dammit!" He exclaimed, finally losing patience. He was hoping the cameras didn't have audio receptors that were high-tech enough to pick up their exchanged words.

She relaxed, allowing for her muscles to go limp. And then, as quietly as she could speak, she muttered, "So do you…then, have a plan for getting us out of here?"

"Just trust me."

She gave a weak, sarcastic chuckle and then allowed herself to be led out of the room.

They walked down the ship's corridors silently, passing the occasional Sith trooper. She tried to keep her breathing normal, but it was so difficult! Yustan felt as if she'd lost all of her calm as a Jedi, and that any moment now, someone would sense their intentions to escape and fall on them like an anvil on ants. Perhaps Jaq noticed her nervousness and gripped her arm tighter...as a warning or to comfort her, she wondered?

As they rounded a corner, he drew up alongside of her, still holding onto her arm, and whispered, "How do you feel about holding a gun and firing off a couple shots?"

She looked at him in blank surprise. Now what was this all about? Why would he want to cause a ruckus when they obviously would have to rely on stealth to get out of here? Yustan narrowed her tired eyes suspiciously – was this some sort of two-timing trick?

In the midst of her trying to work out how his mind was churning, she'd missed part of what he was saying, and stumbled to keep listening. "…distraction, and then I'll open fire – and that will short-circuit the lock. We can then jump in the fighters and be on our merry way."

Her eyes widened and she looked at him as if he had fodder all over his face. She finally found words, and began to yell at him in as quiet a voice as she could muster. "_That's_ your plan? In all the time you had on board to come up with as escape plan – this is the best you can offer! Has the thought that I could be caught in the crossfire not occurred to you?" And then it hit her. Maybe that was it. Maybe _that_ was his plan. It was brilliant, really. A perfect, flawless way to get her killed, and his skin saved all at the same time.

But she didn't have much time to think out her next move. He pulled out a weapon – a small blaster – from nowhere and thrust it in her hands. He muttered something to the extent of, "Just start firing!" And then, much louder, "Prisoner on the loose!"

A shower of laser fire seemed to descend on them both. She didn't have much time to see which way was safest to run, let alone aim, so she simply fired at every piece of bronze armour in sight, ducking and rolling awkwardly to dodge those gunning for her. Smoke puffed out of scorched portions of walls, and Yustan suddenly felt something grab her and drag her backwards.

"Wrong way, wrong way…" muttered Jaq's quaking voice.

She had no choice but to follow. In the split seconds that followed, she tried valiantly to console herself in that Jaq was the lesser of two evils, and by sticking with him she had a higher chance of survival. She was unaware of his babbling beside her, and only caught fragments of sentences that made sense. "...was a brilliant plan – couldn't have worked out better. I'm alive. You're alive...thank the Maker for smoke canisters…"

And then without warning and simultaneously continuing his ramblings at two-thousand words per minute, he shoved her up a steep incline that turned out to be a ramp of a ship. Looking about her once inside, she saw the small cockpit and cried out in more in dismay than anger, "We can't go far in this! It's a fighter! This thing doesn't _do _hyperspace!"

"Just shut up and help me!" he yelled. And then shooting her a look whilst recovering some of his dignity, "I apologize for my inability to find something of better taste that would suit your ladyship!"

She shoved her face right up in front of his. "_This _has nothing to do with taste and you know it! You're playing with our lives!"

"I'm just playing the cards I was dealt! You're welcome to stay with our party boys there – don't let me stop you!" Jaq flipped switches and turned dials, finally pulling a lever that started gunning the engines.

Yustan whimpered in fear and resignation as they strapped themselves into the only two seats in the cockpit. The ship shuddered only slightly as it lifted off amidst a barrage of laser fire from the troopers – ineffective against shields. The vastness of space engulfed them as the small fighter shot out of the hangar, and its two occupants prayed for it to engulf them into safety.

* * *

"Elori, I...this is a freighter, it won't move fast enough – how do you expect to find them?" asked Javin as the bulky craft wafted out of Nar Shadaar.

"Try and log into traffic control. They would have reports of unidentified vehicles leaving their airspace."

"Right." Javin looked about the console in frustrated wonder. And then he turned to his sister, "Which button would that be?"

Mataki was just finishing wrapping her arm in a Kolto-soaked bandage. She strode over and showed him. Within seconds, he heard a million voices shoot over each other on the ship's intercom. She tweaked a frequency dial for a few minutes, and then nodded her head. "News of the blast is all over the radio. That's good for us. Apparently, there were only three ships heading out of Nar Shadaar's airspace in a massive hurry. One was a freighter – carrying passengers to Alderaan. There's no point in Sith fleeing to a Republic-controlled area like that. The other was...I don't know, a small craft and the third another large freighter heading towards a wormhole jump that would take it straight to Coruscant."

Javin thumped his hand impatiently on the console. "But which one were they on?"

"Possibly the smaller freighter. It's faster, more convenient. Here – take the coordinates and let's move."

While he warmed up the engines for the jump to hyperspace following her instructions, he felt a worry gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Something was off...wrong, something he couldn't put his finger on. Noticing his anxious demeanor, Mataki spoke quickly. "What's wrong?"

"I just..." muttered Javin, fumbling for the right words.

"You don't think they're on this route, don't you…neither do I. It doesn't make sense though – for them to be heading towards Coruscant. Why on earth would a freighter that big carrying Sith be doing heading to…" the implications suddenly hit her.

Javin's breathing began to quicken. The console before him, the cockpit, everything seemed to fade away into a blurry mess. Flashes and images – tangible yet elusive, like in dreams – began to replace reality. There was no noise, but he heard the booms of massive laser fire. He saw beautiful structures crumble to pieces that fell swiftly to the ground, only to crush the unfortunates beneath it. He saw laser swords ignited and then snuffed out. Young men and women, his age, their steadfast faces doing their best to conceal fear and control it, forming a line – defending themselves from an enemy he couldn't see. A younger boy, no more than ten, hit hard in the back as he was trying to flee... Javin yelled out.

"My God, you're seeing it happen, aren't you?" came his sister's voice out of nowhere. She gripped his shoulders tightly. He felt as he had just been pulled out of freezing water; saved from drowning. Javin didn't respond. She turned away, swallowed hard and spoke slowly – more to herself than to him. "I should have seen this…Atris was right. But how could we have expected this so _soon?_"

"What's happening?" croaked Javin, finally.

"The fall of the Jedi. What a turn of events...and I am already weary."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Okay. A new species could have evolved in the span it took me to continue this. But continue I did! And so here it, hopefully picking up the pace, and your interests again.


	17. Chapter 17

Before you read on, I just wanted to mention that I'm bringing back a character from one of my earlier chapters who I didn't focus on as much. If you wanted to refresh your memories, and not jump in surprise wondering whether I've coalesced two stories together, James Yeo-Lan's intro appears somewhere around chapter 10-13. Hope this helps in continuity!

Thanks for your reviews and support!

* * *

"Can't you move any faster!" shouted Yustan as she swiveled around her seat in an attempt to bring the little ship's shields up to maximum capacity.

Sharp beams of laser fire shot past them, and one managed to graze the ship's hull, causing a momentary spurt of tremors. Out of the corner of his eye, Atton saw a fighter pull up alongside of them, stop for a second, and then shoot out past them with a burst of speed.

"See?" yelled Yustan again, "_They're_ moving faster than we are! What the hell are you doing wrong!"

_What the hell am I doing, indeed_, thought Atton to himself. _This was a stupid plan from the beginning. Who was I kidding, when I thought this could work?_ While keeping an eye on the radar screen, Atton desperately looked around for something to boost their speed. He wasn't familiar with every damnable craft on the market, and this tight little Sith Fighter was one of them. And then a blinking red light caught his attention. They were down to about twenty-five percent of fuel. Come twenty-percent, a warning would start to sound. And then, lord help him, either the ship would blow up or Yustan would jettison him as spare parts first.

"Tell me it isn't true," spoke Yustan, her tone much quieter now.

Atton swallowed. "You're right. We have about forty minutes of quality time left together before –"

"No, no, Jaq. Look!" she exclaimed pointing her finger out towards the middle of nowhere.

He stared out impatiently, and then shook his frustrated. All he could see was a clump of large asteroids, surrounded by some debris – probably the parts off of a destroyed craft.

"It's the Ardii Cluster! It's been around for thousands of years...ever since the Hyperspace Wars!" It was all she could do from jumping out of her seat with excitement.

_Alright then_, he thought, _so the woman has a passion for history_. In a morbid way, it made sense for her to break down in this fashion. They would now die near a historical landmark. How thrilling it must be for her. "I'm glad for you, Yustan," muttered Atton, now subdued and dismayed.

"We're so bloody near Coruscant, you oaf!"

His eyes lit up. "We are?"

"Give me the damned controls," she instructed, already leaping out of her seat. "How much fuel do we have left?" Atton nodded towards the fuel indicator. She took the information in and spoke, "How fast does this thing burn?"

"Forty-minutes and we're history...no pun intended."

"We can make it." she grinned. "We can make it no problem." She grabbed the controls and swung the ship hard to the left, causing Atton to fall over and hit his head.

"Provided we don't get shot down and you don't run us into an asteroid," he muttered sourly, rubbing his injury.

* * *

They came out of the hyperspace jump with a sudden contrast of black empty space from bright white light. Javin blinked repeatedly, and wondered to himself how he had ever managed to assimilate all these new experiences into something he could make sense of. He realized, with some surprise, that he hadn't been able to process everything. And this lack of time left no room for any acclimatization or responses on his part. Taking things in one's stride was a whole new meaning for him.

As the sub-light engines took over, the ship slowed down considerably, and his eyes widened at the sight before him.

"Right into a nest of hornets," said Mataki quietly, beside him.

Scores of Sith crafts – the fleets almost glowing by the light of Coruscant – surrounded a major portion of the planet. They were moving slowly, like bulky creatures underwater, taking up their attack positions. Streams of smaller fighters would shoot out from time to time from each massive vehicle, flying swiftly, like tiny insects, into Coruscant's atmosphere. Mataki studied the terrible, yet impressive array of enemy crafts, and caught glimpses of Republic fighters here and there. But there were far too few Republic vehicles amidst the throng of the Sith fleet. It was like watching a swarm of soldier bees taking on the smallest of ants.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced carefully at Javin, and saw that he too, was aware of how big a loss the Republic would take this day. She saw him cringe, and feared that another vision given to him through the Force was taking over. But he remained locked in the present, ever aware of the situation unfolding before them.

"They're here for the Jedi, aren't they." spoke Javin in a monotone, not taking his eyes off the terrible scene.

Mataki didn't respond. What was the use if he already knew the answer?

She tried to maintain focus on a more practical aspect of their problem. There was no point in searching for Yustan and Atton in the vastness of space. She could only hope now that they had somehow – despite being captured – landed on the planet before them. Which left the final part of the problem to be solved: getting into Coruscant. They had an advantage in the fact that the Sith had not yet gained full control of Coruscant's airspace. Despite the obvious risk, they still could somehow try to manage to sneak through some unguarded lines. But the clock was undoubtedly ticking and they had to move quickly.

She flipped a switch, turning on their after-burners, throwing them both backwards into their seats as the ship accelerated forward. A small corner of her mind laughed ironically. Should they not survive, at least they might be able to burn a memorable hole through one of the Sith craft.

"Javin, we're going to come into Coruscant very hot. You're going to have to extend all flaps, drag-fins – anything that can slow us down, you turn it on. Power up our shields to ninety-percent. We might be able to reduce re-entry burn that way." And then after glancing at Javin's anxious expression, she added hopefully with a wan smile, "If they shoot us at the rate we're going, they deserve to catch us."

He nodded, a little oblivious at this point to any efforts at humour, and turned his attention to his side of the console. He transferred more power to the shields, and the lights in the cabin went dim. His sister appeared unconcerned, and he realized that this was normal. Well, normal given the situation they were in.

The size of each Sith vessel grew as they drew closer. He noticed that Mataki was steering them towards the edge of the fray, not too close, yet not too far off from the center of battle. A few minutes later, Sith fighters began to take notice of their previously-unassuming freighter and a few deviated from their course to investigate the newcomer. It wasn't long before a barrage of laser fire began to shower over them in welcome.

"What ever happened to the etiquette of battle!" yelled Javin, and then, shouting directly at their enemies, "Civvies on board, you scum rats!" As his fears diminished, anger took its place.

"It's alright." responded Mataki calmly, her eyes fixed on flying them through a safe opening. "We're picking up some serious momentum with gravitational pull. They might as well aim at shooting stars."

Her speculation proved to be correct. As Javin looked out, he saw several fighters fall behind in their attempts to chase them down. Eventually, on recognizing their futile attempts, many gave up altogether and turned around to target their real enemy. But one danger gave way to another. As they entered Coruscant's atmosphere, Mataki nodded to Javin, and he began to extend every drag-fin and flap available to the freighter. As clouds streamed past them like long white swords, the outer insulation on the ship began to catch fire. His stomach churned as he saw the blazing red and yellow melt away portions of the outer frame.

In the midst of it all, he only just began to notice a siren wailing sonorously within the confines of the cabin. His mouth was as dry as sandpaper, and he looked at his sister worriedly.

"Not much time to cover our ears, eh?" she grinned at him. "We're doing good, Javin. We're slowing down."

"We're burning up!" he protested.

"Believe me, if we couldn't slow down you, I, and this glorious ship, would be flaming little fireballs by now."

Not quite sure where to place his trust, he turned his attention back to the console before him. His thoughts drifted towards Endor, and as they meandered their way to his uncle, he shut his eyes and tried to think of other things. This was his choice. No one else's. If he was to die, he would die through his own doing. But the fact remained, he wasn't quite prepared to go out this way. Who in their right mind would feel differently?

The ship shuddered and groaned as if to concur with him. He refused to open his eyes again, and felt a cold hand grip his arm. It was Elori's. If she was afraid she certainly didn't show it, but her body couldn't lie as well as her face could. Her palm was icy and sweaty, and damp hair clung to the nape of her neck. Her eyes remained steady, however, as she stared into his own.

"I need you to stay focused, Javin. We're nearly there."

"Where?" he asked, a little mournfully, "Heaven or Hell?"

Her mouth curved upwards into a small smile. "Neither. We're alright. She's almost completely slowed down to a normal rate. Only problem now is finding a place to land her. We have a fuel problem."

"Ah." was all he could muster.

The ship continued to tremble, but Mataki loosened her grip on its rudder slightly, feeling the friction from the atmosphere lessen. Little by little, they began to make out buildings and objects below them. Finally, they were only a few miles higher then the taller structures, and to their dismay they noticed that many had already been targeted by laser fire. Smoke billowed from plenty, and in some areas visibility was very poor. In the center of such charred towers, no activity could be seen.

"Shield power is eating up our fuel, Javin. Turn them off. And don't look. No one should have to see this." said Mataki.

"Stop trying to protect me." snapped Javin and almost immediately regretted his words. Her concern was natural, and yet he resented it. He had lived a sheltered life for so long – it was not fitting that some had to suffer while others lived well. It was time he saw over his walls. He was determined to.

Mataki said nothing. Perhaps she too realized that this was a path which he could not be prevented from walking. She stared ahead of her, searching the horizon for some place to touch down. It wasn't long before she pointed to great domed structures, and said, "Power houses. Perfect. Let's take her down. Activate the landing gears,"

Javin did as instructed and soon, the battered and bruised ship was brought to rest on solid ground. Despite his immense relief at surviving yet another ordeal, his face immediately grew concerned as he remembered their main purpose. Yustan and Atton.

Mataki let out a huge breath and hung her head. "Well." She rose slowly, as if carrying a great burden, and put a hand on his shoulder. "We have many more hurdles ahead of us. And more choices to make." She looked him in the eyes.

"I'm going with you." he replied, answering her unspoken thoughts.

And for the first time since they had been together, she accepted his decision without question. She held out her hand to help him up, and he took it, smiling.

* * *

He heard his heart thumping in his chest rhythmically. Like the beat of an untiring drum, it rang. He was grateful for the sound, because everything else that surrounded him was enveloped in silence. It was eerie – this quiet. James Yeo-Lan stood in this chamber; one in which he and many others – past and present – had trained for days on end. Although it seemed as if this had to be the only room in the Temple that held such a deadly silence, he knew that was not the truth. The entrance hallways, the meditation rooms, the commons, the garden; everywhere, so _deserted_. No friend or foe within sight.

But he knew that at least part of that was a lie. He sensed his enemies. If they were not here now, at least he knew that they had been where he stood. Their presence had stained this place, the cries of the dying echoed within the confines of silence.

Why on earth had he chosen to come back if nothing could be done?

Atris had told him to leave the Temple, to leave Coruscant. She would take care of what was within her means, she had said. There was no need for him to be here if someone as capable as she was in charge. In fact, he was as prepared as the situation required him to be in order to leave for Endor. He was only hours away from boarding a passenger freighter on Telos to Endor before a sudden wave of apprehension overcame him. And even then, he had remained on Telos, taking so much time to decide which way to turn. _Too much time_, he frowned.

His heart lay with those he cared about. Not an exiled Jedi who chose to wander beyond the reach of the Republic. At this moment, he was surprised to find himself angry and frustrated at the woman who had led him away from where he would have proved to be quite useful. If she cared so much for the Republic so as to abandon the Order for it, then why should anyone grovel after her to ask her to aid it?

That was a question he knew would not be answered soon.

He walked slowly down towards the end of the chamber, only to reach a long corridor that led to the upper gardens. As soon as he entered it, he knew that he was not alone. At the other end of the hallway, a tall figure emerged, red saber already ignited in his hand. He wore nothing extravagant save for simple black clothes. Even in the distance, James recognized how brightly the hate and the anger burned beneath his eyes. His saber was a poor match for his emotions.

On seeing James, he stopped for a moment, as if considering this new opponent. Then he decisively marched forward, only to be followed by – to James' dismay – a crowd of Sith Troopers. James stood still, wondering silently to himself if his fate had been sealed. Somewhere in the back of his mind, something told him that nothing was ever concrete or set in stone. And it was this voice that made him hold his ground. As the troopers continued to advance, their leader held up his hand suddenly, red saber still ignited beside him. Their movement halted, and he spoke, his voice reminiscent of something inhuman and metallic.

"Back away. I will meet this one alone since he does not retreat from a challenge." He nodded his head towards the path from which they came. "Go back and check the other sections for survivors."

_Survivors to finish off_, realized James.

The troopers marched out, leaving the two men alone in the hallway. The afternoon light that streamed in was now waning, and what light that was once considered warm only served as a reminder of a way of life that was nearing its end.

"You will be surprised by how few Jedi chose to face me alone. And if you believe that you are the only Jedi remaining who has to take upon himself so great a task, then you are misled. There are a few of you – who are still alive. But they will suffer a more public humiliation than your own, as they are executed before Coruscant's masses tomorrow. How will the Republic survive without its soul, I wonder?" spoke the Sith without emotion, save for the word _Jedi_, which he spat out with such ferocity.

"Am I supposed to quake with fear?" asked James, trying to quell the obvious.

The Sith grinned. "You are supposed to _feel_, Jedi. Your high and mighty ideals – to claim that you are above the call and need of emotion. Such delusions! Tell me if you feel nothing when I tell you how many younglings I have slaughtered this day."

James' jaw tightened.

"Or perhaps you would care to know what kind of displays we have set up for the remaining few in the sparring arena?"

James shut his eyes briefly, marshalling his strength – both physical and emotional. _The dead are gone now, beyond this world where we can see them. They endure no more pain and are one with the Force. All that remains for us are their memories. And we dishonour them by tainting their memories with something as ugly as vengeance. If you fight, you fight for what they believed in. If you fight for the love of hate, then be prepared to hate all who you love_.

He could not remember who spoke those words to him, but that mattered so little now. What mattered was that it gave him the strength to move forward, facing death itself.

* * *

The Sith grunted as the Jedi's lightsaber bore down on his own. Despite James' youth, he found himself overcome with a strength greater than his own. For over ten minutes now, he had parried each thrust, and taken each blow without giving considerable ground. The Sith was moving slowly backwards into the upper gardens, being pushed slowly by James' constant onslaught.

Realizing that this particular move would at the very best end in a stalemate, the Sith quickly withdrew his saber and James plunged forward, almost toppling onto his hands. If he hadn't rolled away in time, James was certain that he would feel the burn of his opponent's saber in the back of his neck. He lashed at the Sith's feet using the hilt of his saber, causing him to be thrown against the wall. And in that split second, James rushed forward bringing his saber close to his neck. But it was met by the red blade, and the two men stared at each other, frozen in combat.

"What do you fight for, if not revenge?" mocked the Sith.

"Stop talking," grunted James.

"You'd do anything to bring back the dead, wouldn't you? You shall be well rewarded for your efforts, my friend. What if I told you that the only way you can defeat me – the murderer of your friends – was to give in to hate?"

"You would be lying."

The Sith bent his knee and drove it into James' stomach. But even as the younger man fell back with a groan, he swung his lightsaber around and grazed the Sith's thigh. Both men leaned against opposite sides of the wall, panting.

"If you give into your feelings, you end my life. By doing thusly, who knows how many more innocents you save from my blade?"

James blinked the sweat out of his eyes.

"Ah, so now everything isn't as clear, is it?" the Sith panted.

"On the contrary," muttered James, "your point is perfectly understood."

With that, he charged forward with renewed strength and leapt over the Sith. Bringing his saber upon his opponent's, he slowly led him towards the gardens. They were suddenly bathed in light, and James could tell that the peaceful environment of the greenery only served to irritate the Sith. He could only hope that it distracted him from combat and gave James the upper hand.

The lights from both blades blurred together in a speed of motion. Then, to display his obvious command of the Force, while fending off James' attacks with one hand, the Sith reached out with the other and broke a large branch off a tree, sending it hurtling towards the Jedi. The force caught him off guard, and the branch swept him off his feet, only to land a few feet away against a broken statue. James felt a warmth spread down his upper lip and into his mouth. He recognized the salty-sweet taste of blood, and wiped it away with the back of his hand.

Rising to his feet rather unsteadily, he ducked shakily underneath the swing of the Sith's saber, and rose up behind him to renew his attack.

"You are hard to break," spat the Sith. "But this only makes the final reward just as sweeter."

He used the Force yet again in an attempt to knock James' unconscious – and sent a heavy stone hurtling towards him, but this time, he was ready. Instead of diverting the path of the oncoming rock or physically evading it, he put all of his effort into a dual move of cleaving the rock into two and kicking out with his left foot into the Sith's face. His opponent rocked back from the impact in surprise, and James didn't hesitate to thrust his saber into his enemy's chest. As the blade went through without a sound, James felt an incomprehensible sadness, and felt the rush of the dying man's memories whir by as he faded. James felt his sorrows, his anger, his mirth, and even his love in one intense moment, before it flickered away to nothing.

Moving back from this death, James turned off his light saber and fell back onto the ground, exhausted.

* * *

It was dark now, and given the deaths that had taken place during the day, the cool of nightfall was welcome. One could almost try and succeed in imagining that none of the horrors of the day had taken place. But imagining was one thing, and feeling was another.

The moonlight fell softly through the leaves of the trees, and illuminated the two figures who strolled quietly through it. They didn't speak to each other, but in the way they hung their heads, there appeared nothing left to be said. The first figure, a woman – similar in height to her male counterpart – stopped in the center of the garden and looked about her, her hands hanging limply by her sides.

"There's nothing to see here. Nothing to save." came a voice from the dark shade of a tree, that started the two newcomers.

Mataki moved forward towards the source, stopping at a respectful distance, for it was obvious that the voice was greatly saddened.

James emerged from his shelter, a crude shovel in his hand. On seeing and recognizing Mataki's face in the moonlight, he raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Instead, he turned away and walked towards a clearing where several mounds lay, recently covered with fresh earth, and each decorated with a solitary white flower. He walked over to one he was just finishing, and continued to throw dirt atop of it.

Mataki walked behind James, Javin watching silently, and knelt beside the grave.

"They're unmarked," muttered James. "And you may not want to shed tears for that one. It's Sith."

Javin looked at the man in surprise, and then his sister, who remained unflinching beside the earth.

"Does it matter?" she asked looking up at James, her eyes finally giving way to emotion. Her face was drawn and anguished. He looked at her in surprise. This woman before him, she was no General, no traitor, and very likely, no Jedi. She was human. And then, unable to face his gaze, she looked away. Her voice broke, and it sounded as if she was weeping softly. She clutched at the earth between her fingers. "The Sith kill Jedi because they are Jedi. The Jedi kill Sith because they are Sith. In the end, we are only killing ourselves."


	18. Chapter 18

She sat on the ground, legs crossed, facing the warmth of the rising sun. Javin lay sleeping nearby, and James continued to stare into the horizon in the west. Occasionally, he would sigh softly, and would take to walking the full-length of the upper gardens, to only resume his place once again, unable to stop his constant barrage of thoughts.

Mataki glance back at Javin's sleeping form and was glad that at least one of them was able to take solace in the comfort of rest – albeit for a short while. She herself had managed to close her eyes several times during the short night, but her peace was often shattered by the arrival of dark dreams that seemed all too real for her comfort.

She dreamed of the dead, those she had killed or those she had seen killed. To be both the inflictor and witness was something she would never wish upon her worst enemy. But the truth was that this was growing far too common. It was one war after another after another. And all for what, really? Lust for power? Domination? Too simple of an answer, and she knew it. At the core of each war lay a belief. A belief that took control of the mind, bending perceptions, altering reality. _So if we did away with beliefs altogether, would the galaxy be the better for it_, she thought? No. Not only was such manipulation impossible, it was too quick and unstable of a solution.

The Jedi instructed their own to depend on the Force, and not their emotions. That was their belief. But what would a belief be if it did not stem from a powerful feeling, an _emotion_, of the strongest kind? Were the Jedi merely deluding themselves? _If so_, she thought frustrated, _then where did the answers lie?_

"Maybe there are none." came a voice from behind her.

She jumped slightly, more from the fact that James had been able to penetrate her mind so easily. She prided herself on remaining closed when it came to her own feelings, and had crafted many ways to shield others from combing through her thoughts. Upset with herself, she frowned without turning to face him.

"You should knock before you enter," she said.

"I'm sorry," apologized James, "I couldn't help it."

"Curious, are you?" she scowled, as James took a seat beside her.

Ignoring her disapproval, James continued. "In our all our lives, we search for a purpose to what we do. A reason for why something has to be. Constantly thinking about _why, why, why_. What if, General, there is no answer?"

Turning to face him, she said, "Then we wouldn't grieve, or laugh, or love. There is a reason for why we feel."

"You may be right. Then again, you may be wrong. But one thing I feel certain of is that we will not be granted the luxury to know in this lifetime. We're reaching for the untouchable – again, another idiosyncrasy we have carried since the dawn of time. Maybe what we truly need to focus on is the here and the now. Maybe all we have to do is make do with what choices have been given to us."

Her thoughts immediately flashed back to that fateful day when she encountered Revan on Malachor V. When he had held her friend, Hix, a man with simple yet beautiful ideals, by the throat. Didn't Hix make a choice then? He chose her above himself. Just as she had chosen the people of the Republic above the Jedi Order. To whom then, did she owe her allegiance to now?

_Trust your feelings_, came a voice inside her head. It startled her, it being so loud. For a split second she imagined that it was Hix, or some other fallen friend, speaking to her through the Force. But to her surprise, she recognized that of the voice of James. Was he probing her mind again? She glanced at him sideways. No, he was lost in his own thoughts. As she paused, clearing her mind of all distraction, she heard him again.

_I should have relied on my feelings weeks ago. If I had, I would have been here when everything came undone. I should have died alongside them. A man should never have to bury his own friends. But Atris remains, thank the Force. If anyone can summon the will to conquer this failure, it is she_.

At the mention of Atris' name, Mataki instinctively looked at James. It didn't take him too long to realize that she in turn had read his mind. She turned away quickly, ashamed.

"I didn't intend to, I'm sorry," she muttered.

James held his breath, unsure of what to make of this new development. Thoughts should not be able to permeate through barriers like this – Jedi or no – this was too easy and worse, dangerous, if his defenses had weakened so.

"Perhaps it would be best if we –" said James awkwardly, before being cut off.

"– yes, I agree. We need to attend to more pressing matters. I have friends I need to find,"

"And there are Jedi that need to be freed."

With the implications of the size of the tasks that lay ahead, they were both very reluctant to move, and were too afraid to think lest one hear the other.

Summoning the reserves of his will power, James nodded at Mataki in silent farewell, and began to walk into the Temple. His took each forward step grudgingly, as if something was holding him back. Perhaps it was the nature of the burden that lay ahead of him which induced such hesitance. Or perhaps it was the Temple itself that his soul wanted to cling to; a last shred of peacefulness. As he was about to stride through the doorway leading inside, he was relieved to hear Mataki's voice call out to him.

"Forgive me for keeping you from your business," she started, "...and also for the _intrusion_. But I must ask, are you, do you...is Atris –" Mataki stumbled for the right words.

"Atris was my Master."

"Is she...?

"No. I don't believe she is. It is likely that she foresaw this and fled to safety," he averted his gaze as he deliberately lied – Atris had _never_ run from anyone or anything in her life.

Mataki narrowed her eyes. _She's not buying this_, he thought.

She looked away in turn and then spoke in a quiet voice. "I'm not one for forced civility in many conversations, especially when we can hit the nail in head without niceties. I heard you, just as you heard me. We both have information vital for each other. And this makes withholding knowledge absurd if we're both on the same side."

"Are we?" James cocked his head onto one side.

"If you want restoration of the Jedi Order, then yes."

"Why would you want to help those who stabbed you in the back, General?"

She flinched as he addressed her with that title. "I do not want my Knighthood restored. I simply want an end to this suffering. As do the Jedi."

_Do you seek redemption?_ came James' voice within her head again. This time, however, he was more cautious, asking before taking. She in turn was less abashed and met with him inside her mind.

_Despite its futility, maybe, yes_.

_That's called selfishness_.

_If my self-indulgence brings about good, then what of it?_

_Because that is not your real reason for fighting this battle_, he continued.

_Perhaps its bloodlust then_, she added, growing weary of herself.

_Or perhaps you're just searching_.

Her eyes looked up. _For what?_

_If I knew, I would tell you. You have become hollow; hollow with an emotion that is raging, running, fighting for an answer. That is what fuels you. It is neither of the dark nor the light – it is from you_.

"Are you trying to dissuade me?" she suddenly asked out loud.

"I don't think that's possible, but no – I don't mean to dissuade you. It's just that this grand task, restoring the Order, bringing about peace, they're all very noble..."

"...but?"

"...they won't bring you the kind of peace you seek."

Mataki frowned. "Then what will?"

"If you knew the answer, and if it was a selfishly simple one, would you abandon the path you're on now and leave the Republic to its fate?"

She breathed in deeply and hung her head. "I cannot. I would dearly love to leave them all to their own devices and chaos while I seek exile on some forgotten planet." When she looked back up at him again, her face had changed. Her eyes burned brightly in passion and anguish. "Don't you think I have gone down that road? Don't you believe that I have sought peace and solitude, only to be uprooted over and over? It is I who uproots myself! I make those choices!"

"Which is what makes you unique." He stared at her in slow realization. And this time, more for her hearing than his own, he thought; _The Jedi were wrong to cast you out. I was wrong for presuming to understand you, and even as you seek forgiveness for your own sins, I hope you can grant forgiveness to those who wronged you_.

_And how could that be achieved?_ she asked.

_By helping me help you_.

* * *

Fine wisps of cloud began to glow a golden shade of purple in the twilight, and the lights from the houses on the grassy plain shone in welcome behind him. It was then that he knew he was dreaming. But it was a change from all the nightmares and bad memories, so instead of forcing himself to awaken, he blissfully allowed the dream to proceed.

He sat on a smooth-formed rock, overlooking the valley down below. A flock of Skenesse squawked in the trees around him, each fighting over branches for their nightly roost. He glanced towards the watcher's tower ahead of him, and gave a small wave at his father's silhouette. It was almost time for their nightly meal, and he knew that his mother would miss him, and certainly hold back no angry words if he was late. But with the calm blanket of twilight around him, the noise of the creatures settling in for the night, and everything being so in tune with everything else, he didn't worry. And in some remote part within himself, he was aware that his mother, too, would not be anxious for his safety. It was etiquette and punctuality that she would be most concerned about.

He had managed to sneak away from his group of friends for the evening. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy their company – it was quite the contrary, actually. He loved romping through the village giving chase with the rest of his little herd to geese, girls, and whatever caught their fancy. But he had realized that there was a part of him that he wasn't quite willing to share with anyone yet. And the others – despite their young age – had come to accept that. It was a topic that was never discussed out loud; and even if they had wanted to, it would sound far too adult, and would promptly be dropped as soon as the next inventive and destructive game could be thought up. And so it was. Evening after evening, he would leave his group to take up his place on this rock of his, where he would sit with the rest of the world as it prepared for sleep.

At four years of age, Atton was remarkably astute – especially when it came to the feelings of others. He could tell if someone was forcing happiness despite the lingering touch of disappointment. He could tell the difference between the songs his mother sang while going about her daily chores – the genuinely cheerful ones, and the ones that simply had to be sung in order to get through a painful day. He could feel the coldness of someone's hands as they waited anxiously for something, without even having to touch them. He knew what he possessed was something unique, but he was intelligent enough not to flaunt it.

As he sat with his chin cupped in his hands, he jerked to attention at the call of a sharp whistle that seemed to come from above. He looked up to his right, and saw his father waving at him, gesturing him to come join him in the watcher's hide above. Excited and eager to please his father, he leapt to his feet, and it wasn't long before he stood beside his father, panting.

"If you're going to be sitting outside by yourself, you might as well be doing something useful." said his father, putting a hand on his head.

Atton nodded in silence. In his opinion, he didn't consider his quiet communion with nature idle time, but he knew better than to argue with his father.

"You can stand watch with me." continued his father. And then, on seeing the concerned look on the boy's face, he grinned, "It's alright, I'll face your mother's wrath. We all need to stay up late at one point or another. This will give you some training for when it's your responsibility to watch for the safety of our village."

"I'll be taking your place soon, then?" asked Atton, unsure as to whether he should be happy or worried.

His father laughed at the innocent question. "I hope not! Besides, watching is not all I'm in charge of. If there's any threat to us here, I have to sound the alarm," he picked up a beautifully carved ivory instrument that glowed dimply in the pale moonlight, "…and then I've got to climb down as fast as I can, grab my horse and warn the next village quickly. We depend on each other for survival."

"Who have we got to be afraid of? No one's killed us,"

Atton looked at his father for the answer, but it wasn't soon in coming. He thought he sensed a small icy blanket of gloom stir within the man beside him. A little cloud of conflict stirred inside his father, before he finally consented to giving an answer. "Death has happened before. Bad things have come, not too long before you were born. And even if life has settled peaceably for now, it does not mean we have to slacken our guard."

Atton looked down at his feet, trying to imagine the horrors and monsters that came near his home. "When...these things came, were you watching here, where you are now?"

"No." It was his turn to look down. "My brother was."

He knew better than to talk about his deceased uncle. It was a sore subject amongst their family. Often, his father would speak of his elder brother with a detached emotion – as if he was no more than an acquaintance of the family. But underneath that distance lay a dusty foundation of love and respect – something Atton knew would pain his father to uncover.

Instead, Atton slipped his small hand into his father's larger one. The man gave it a grateful squeeze, as the two continued their vigil into the night.

* * *

It was his father's sharp movement that jerked him awake that night. He watched, through sleepy eyes, as his father, gripped the side of the watcher's hide, as if listening intently to something. Atton too, strained his ears to hear, but nothing was forthcoming.

Unable to stand the tension any longer, he whispered, "What is it?"

"The animals are quiet," responded his father, not taking his eyes off the horizon.

"The animals are sleeping," argued Atton.

"This is not the silence of nature, son. Pass me my field glasses,"

Atton rummaged in a rough leather sack, and quickly produced them. Sensing danger before his father spoke, he felt his stomach sink.

"Raiders..." muttered his father under his breath. "They're not close enough yet, look at them – the devils – slipping through the night like cowards." But he knew that if the raiders were anything, they were not fearful. They were cunning, and cruel, and spared no one for the sake of territory. He paused, with a dilemma in his hands. If he sounded the alarm, the raiders would increase their pace and perhaps even, the force of their attack. But at the same time, their own fighters would assemble at the sound of the warning, which would give them a better chance of survival. He rose up suddenly, fumbling for his horn. In his nervousness, the horn slipped from his hands, and as if in slow motion, he watched it fall towards the ground. It cleaved in two on impact, as did his hopes for the village.

Atton looked at his father, his face aghast with fear. His father gripped his shoulders and spun him towards the ladder. "Go on," he tried desperately to assure him. "Never mind the silly alarm. Let's get down first and go warn mummy."

As they reached the grassy floor, Atton couldn't help but stare out at the darkness that had now become evil and threatening. He imagined seeing shadowy figures with missing eyes, and claws for fingers. He closed his eyes – it was just his imagination. He clung to his father's arm with cold hands, and whispered fiercely, "What about the next village? Who will tell them?"

His father paused in mid-step. After a moment of consideration, he looked at his son. "You have to go, Atton, I can't leave your mo – the village. Take Seymour, and go." Atton stared back at him, uncomprehending. His father pushed him away, "Go. You've ridden him well before. Keep riding in the direction of the temple. Go."

"I want to stay here," he protested, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes in realization.

"You can't," said his father, unable to look at him anymore. "You have to go."

Atton grabbed his father's arm again fiercely, digging his nails deep into his flesh. "Don't want," the tears flowed freely now.

Gruffly, he pried his son's fingers loose, and spoke in his sternest tone. "I don't care about what you want. I want you away from here!"

Breathing fast and hard, Atton stared at his father, his feet planted firmly on the ground – refusing to move. "I won't go unless you tell me you hate me."

A flash of pain stabbed through his father's eyes. Atton felt it deeply, so deeply that it almost took his breath away. But in a split second, the pain was gone, and a form of hollowness took its place.

"I..._hate_ you, Atton," Inhaling deeply, he continued, "_Get out of my sight_."

And then, after the passing of what seemed like several minutes, Atton turned around and began running away from home.

* * *

He had been brought back to his village only several days later, by a monk who was journeying in that direction. He had been distraught for that small eternity, but no amount of tantrums or wailing or self-starvation would make them take him home. They'd locked up all their horses, knowing full well that the boy was capable of riding them out of the temple easily.

He rode in silence, behind the monk, not even asking for a drink of water on this dreadfully long journey. The monk had stopped twice now, each time offering the boy some food, but he had refused. He knew that food would only serve to make the unsettling feeling in his belly worse. Every minute, he looked up at the horizon as they rode through tired eyes, expecting to see another rider coming to meet them. And he hoped beyond all hopes that his father would be that rider.

As the afternoon sun sat back, giving way to evening, he began to see the outlines of little homes. He straightened up, and gripped the shoulder of the monk in anticipation. Several minutes later, he recognized the familiar structures of his village, and without warning, he jumped off the horse and began running towards his home.

He was running faster than his feet could keep up, stumbling several times along the way. Hearing only the sound of his rapidly beating heart and breathing, he was unaware of the protests of the monk who ran behind him in pursuit.

He saw charred forms lying several feet away from him, but paid no attention to what they were. He ran down the familiar route that led to his house, and tripped over spears and other instruments that lay strewn across the burnt grass. Finally he stood in the doorway of his own home, staring with incomprehension at how different it looked, trying to take in all the brown-ness in which colour used to lie. Tentatively stepping through the wreckage, he walked towards the bedroom, and through that doorway he saw something he couldn't quite make out. After studying it intently, he noticed it was a still form of someone's hand. Following the tapered fingers down to the wrist, he saw a bracelet – it was familiar to him, and strangely enough, he saw it in a separate image from this one. His mother wore it constantly, even when she washed dirty clothes. It would often make this clinking sound when she shook her fist at him, and when she hugged him tight. What was this strange person doing with it? The rest of the person's arm was hidden from view, he was about to step into the door-frame to get a better look, when someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him away.

"Come away, son, there's nothing to comfort you in here." came the familiar sound of the monk.

He allowed himself to be led away without a struggle. As if in a trance, he watched himself being placed back on the horse, the monk speaking soothingly to him – speaking incomprehensible words. He studied the monk's face intently, trying to gather from this man something familiar. But there was nothing.

Nothing. He had nothing.

The pain hit suddenly, all over. And he watched in slow motion as the monk reached into his chest and wrenched his heart straight from his body.

* * *

He screamed out, contorting his body, and curling himself up into a ball.

It was a wail she had never heard before. In a detached corner of her mind, she realized that observing such pain in the man before her would give her her revenge, but today, it tore at her soul. Yustan bent down and gripped Atton's hands tightly, speaking to him as steadily as she could.

"Jaq...Atton," she stumbled, "Listen to me – can you hear me? If you can, let me know,"

His wail softened, but it was only replaced by a soft groaning, painful and almost inhuman.

Yustan looked nervously about her. The Sith had reduced this section of Coruscant to dust – it was nothing but an empty span of desert. Surely no one could hear them out here. She turned her attention back to Atton, ever since they had crashed, he had been traveling in and out of consciousness. And even when he seemed to respond to an outside stimulus, he still had one foot in his own world. She had tried pouring some water down his throat from the ship's reserves, but she had only been successful twice in the span of two days. She did not want to abandon him in the search for shelter or more food – she reluctantly admitted that she had almost become a little more than tolerant of his company. And because of this...she wanted to help him.

"It's Yustan – there's no one else here. Just me and you, and we're safe," she continued. She checked his leg where she'd had the presence of mind to attach a tourniquet on. It had stopped bleeding several hours ago.

The groaning stopped. So began the cycle she had now become familiar with. He would slip back into dreams again, then emerge from with cries much later. She sat back, helpless.

_No, not helpless_, came a voice.

With a surge of joy, she recognized the voice of an old friend. _Ben,_ she asked?

_Use the Force, Yustan. You can't help him any other way._

Reluctantly, she answered. _I don't know if that will do any good_.

_You want to help him. But you can't because of what he did to us. To me._

_He killed you_, she admitted.

_So one good turn deserves another?_

"No," she said out loud, "that's not what I feel."

_Then do what you feel is right_.

She calmed herself and closed her eyes, gingerly, gently reaching out towards Atton's wounded consciousness. The pain hit her suddenly and without warning. It took her a few seconds to realize it was not her own pain. Breathing in deeply, and forcing herself further inwards she felt familiar feelings of human regret. And as she probed deeper she felt raw pain – something too deep to be removed. Then a red torrent of anger and hatred, followed by the desire to kill, to maim.

A cold hand grabbed her own, bringing her quickly out of her concentration.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, lady?" came a hoarse voice.

She almost gapsed with relief. "Atton!"

"Who're you?" he asked gruffly.

His accusatory and tough façade came naturally to him now, she realized. "It's me, you fool – Yustan!"

Blinking, he let go of her arm and reached up to take her hair between his fingers. "Red head...I remember now. I thought you were..."

"...a dream?" she asked, concerned. "No more dreams of your kind for you, I hope. I'm real."

"And I'm alive? What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" she asked.

He shook his head from side to side slowly. She then realized that this lapse of memory was simply a natural response of his mind to trauma. There was no need to immerse him completely and suddenly to all the events that had occurred. "We had to take a detour." she explained.

"A _forced _detour?" he asked, probing for more information.

She nodded.

"My favourite kind." He moved, and winced in pain suddenly.

"You also may have hurt your leg."

"_May have?_" he propped himself up onto his elbows and looked down at his leg. "What on earth did you do to me?"

"I saved your life, but no matter. After all that you've done for me, it's the least I could do." she said sarcastically.

"I'm not _that_ delirious. What pill did you swallow to help the little swine before you?"

She sighed and began to get up. He reached out, and tried to stop her from moving away. "No, Yustan, wait. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm – it's just that, I – "

She relaxed and sat back down on the dusty ground. "It's alright. You don't have to explain yourself. I think I understand enough."

"I don't want you to get the wrong impression."

She laughed. "Aren't we beyond first impressions, Atton?"

"Cut me some slack. I'm in pain here. Pain makes you...contrite. It makes you think about confessions. And for me to even _consider_ going down that road – let me tell you, something big has to happen."

Yustan crinkled her forehead worriedly. "If the pain's getting worse, I may have to clean out your wound again."

He grimaced, imagining the pain to come. "I don't want to feel _that_ remorseful,"

Ignoring him, she began to undo the tourniquet, already prepared to do her duty.

"Forget about the leg. Tell me about something. Anything." she spoke as worked, getting out what appeared to gauze and bandages in a bag nearby.

"Overdose by Kolto comes to mind..." he muttered.

"No can do. We don't have any Kolto at hand."

"What under-developed planet did you bring me to?"

"Coruscant." she answered.

"No kidding," he murmured, looking disbelievingly around him. "Just how many years have I been asleep? Ow! Go easy on the leg!"

"Just...think about something else. Tell me about something. Something important."

He looked blankly at her.

She responded with raised eyebrows. "Don't tell me that you don't consider everything that's happened in your life as unimportant? Come on! There must be something that's special to you!"

"My father." he said quietly. "My father is important to me."

"Tell me about him." She held a piece of tape in between her teeth, and tore it away with one hand while she held the disinfectant down on his leg with the other. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Four or five. I don't remember. He's gone."

She stopped working momentarily. "Did you dream about him?"

He met her eyes. "Yes."

She returned to her work. "Was he a good man?"

"I thought he was."

"Well, you either think well or ill of someone you're close to. Unless you didn't know him..."

"I knew him. I loved him." He winced. Whether from the burning from his leg or pain, she couldn't tell. "But he didn't love me."

"Why do you say that?"

"Let's not go there."

"It's your choice," she responded. "This is going to sting for a minute, Atton, hang tight."

He shut his eyes. "It was my choice. Back then, to stay. But he wanted me to leave him and my mother. He chased me away instead of protecting me. He chose the village over me."

"If you thought he was a good man before all of this, then why do you believe in this sudden hatred he had for you? One moment cannot change a lifetime of goodness. At least, not easily."

"You know this from experience?"

"Maybe I do," she got up from her kneeling position, and dusted her hands on her trousers. "Then again, maybe I don't. Besides, I thought you were the sort of person who doesn't look towards others for guidance. I'm finished, by the way." She nodded at his leg.

He cast a wary glance at his leg. "Thanks." he muttered.

"You're welcome." she turned to walk towards the wreckage of the ship which lay many yards away.

"Yustan, wait. Don't go. Don't leave me."

It was his tone that held her back. She turned around. "I'm not going anywhere; I'm just going to grab more supplies from in there. There's a bad fuel leak, and I want to salvage anything I can find in case there's a fire."

"You're coming back then?"

She smiled gently. "Nothing can keep me from your sad little side, flyboy."

* * *

An hour later, night came over Coruscant, and the two figures lay curled up inside makeshift beds of cloth and leather. Atton lay awake for several hours, staring at the constellations above him, afraid to drift into dreams again. He turned his head to look at Yustan. She was fast asleep, breathing heavily already. Slowly, he pulled his arm out from underneath the covers, and grasped her hand gently as if not to wake her, and held it in his own.

It wasn't long before he slipped out of wakefulness. But this time, his dreams were good ones.


	19. Chapter 19

Author's note

To all of the people who've been faithfully reading and reviewing this story, thank you very much for your advice and appreciation! I have the full intention of finishing this story soon. I think I should add two more chapters at the most.

This was the hardest chapter – so far – to write. I had so many days of writer's block, and I often forced myself to write something, anything, for the sake of my determination to end this story. But everything I wrote during these moments was utter crap. So...I deleted it, and put the writing on hold until the plot was prepared to move on. It proved to be a pretty good move because there were instances during a day or a week where an idea would spring up from nowhere. And slowly but surely, I think things are moving forward.

But a lot of credit goes to a few people who I e-mailed for advice and input (you know who you are!). Your suggestions and opinions helped me focus on being true to most of the characters. I have a proposal for a follow-up to this, and I intend to e-mail you yet again for some help.

Anyhow, if you want to avoid my ramblings, please feel free to get to the bone of the story. I think I need to personally most of you guys for your support (yes, I suppose this is my sad pseudo-Oscar moment). DanteRevan – don't you ever underestimate your ability as a writer! Geez, there are (many) times when I read Catharsis and was blown away. Keep them stories coming, and I will definitely put more effort into reviewing them. (Which reminds me, if there's anything you'd like me to review, PM me. I often do a lot of reading and no reviewing.) Sharinganavenger, I am so damned glad you liked this stuff! You actually gave me the shove I needed to continue this! And Katimnai, dude, you rock. Like, totally. You like my characters no matter how twisted they are! Thanks also to the new reviewers who actually bothered to go through some of the older chapters to make sense of what's currently happening.

I should conclude this author's note (thesis, rather, at this point), eh? And so I will, with a muchos gracias to every big and small inspiration out there (from listening to The Cranberries, to watching Veteran's Day parades, to writer's block, to glimpsing the new Casino Royale trailers – which looks like it's going to kick butt btw, with Daniel Craig proving all his naysayers wrong; good for him, to deep digs into Nutella jars).

On with the show.

* * *

"Atton, Atton – for heaven's sake, wake up!" whispered Yustan fiercely into his ear.

Grunting, he turned away from the source of the noise, when she reached out and jerked him awake.

He blinked in the afternoon sunlight, his nerves rudely brought to wakefulness. "Wassa matter," he mumbled.

"Look, we have to get out of here. Now." She nodded upwards, and he followed her line of sight towards a gathering dust cloud on the horizon. For a split second – and an awful one at that – he thought he was back on Korriban. His stomach turned completely, but then looking at Yustan, he remembered the previous day's events.

"A sandstorm here? _On Coruscant_?"

She got up on her haunches, too wary to stand up erect, and looked out towards the spectacle, shielding her eyes with one hand. "No, I don't think so. Whatever the Sith did – I doubt they managed to flatten the entire planet. This is something else, can't you feel it?" she asked, referring to Atton's perceptive abilities.

"Right now I'm feeling something of a different sort," he replied, looking towards his injured leg.

She swallowed. "Pain or no, we're going to have to get out of this place. We're so _exposed_. And once they see the wreckage," she nodded towards the destroyed craft, "they're going to be looking for survivors."

"They could be Republic," said Atton, "Not that I'm keen on seeing that party either – but they're the lesser of the two evils, I suppose."

"They're not Republic." stated Yustan, quite certain of herself.

He struggled to bring himself into a seating position. Grunting, he said, "Look, even if they're Sith...it's a complete waste of time bringing a fleet down here. It's too unlike them."

"Maybe they're searching for someone."

"Well. Whatever they're planning on doing; looks like we'd better clear out soon. That little cloud just keep getting bigger and bigger."

* * *

The sunlight was slowly waning as the day drew near to a close, and after a lengthy discussion of respective information, the three finally decided on leaving the deserted Temple. Javin found James to be very forthcoming with information, a stark comparison to the mistrust he obviously held for his sister the previous night. Mataki, too, had undergone some kind of transformation – something he hadn't seen much of before. He couldn't quite place his finger on what exactly had altered, but he knew it was something that had placated her, and that was enough for him not to pursue the matter. He followed behind the pair who continued to discuss events somberly; unsure as to what part he would play in the unfolding events. He was nervous to be sure, definitely outmatched when it came to experience, and what was worse – even though he would never admit this to Mataki – was that he was impulsive. That, together with his naivety was a bad combination.

He froze as James suddenly looked back at him momentarily, and then continued with his conversation with Mataki.

Javin frowned. "Thinking of ditching the third wheel, eh?" he called out.

Without having her turn around, Javin felt his sister sigh.

James smiled and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "On the contrary."

"Oh?" Javin raised his eyebrows, but still appeared doubtful of his intentions.

"If you had come earlier, we could have put your skills to good use." explained James.

"If he had come here earlier…" muttered Mataki, quite audibly, with the obvious implications of her words left unspoken.

Javin looked about the deserted gardens. She did have a point. But now they would never know, would they? Part of him was surprised at himself. He did everything but condone the way of the Jedi, and now...was that a feeling of regret he was experiencing, never having the opportunity to live up to his potential?

It was obvious that his sister was asking him the same question; by the way she cocked her head to one side and studied him. He did not reply.

James filled the silence. He shook his head, "Anyway, it doesn't matter right now. We need to leave. We've wasted enough time as it is already." He placed his hand on Javin's back, leading him forward.

For a moment, he paused, looking up at the clear night sky. At the same instant, Javin felt a sense of dread creep over him. The garden – which before had felt open, and free, to him – now felt like a cage, with its walls closing in on them by the second.

Mataki noticed their faces, and ran towards the entrance inside the Temple, looking down the darkened hallway.

James shouted in warning, when an explosion rocked the foundations. She fell backwards, whilst James and Javin held on to each other for support. Mataki quickly rose to her feet, and burrowed under her cloak for something. She pulled it out eventually, and the reflection of the item in the moonlight revealed its identity. She saw the odd look on James' face.

"This one came at a discount price," she quipped grimly, as she ignited the green lightsaber.

As he followed suit, his blue saber gleaming brightly beside hers, he said, "Well, I'm glad you brought spares."

Javin frowned despite his concerns. "What about me?"

"Get behind us. If you see us getting cornered, just run." said his sister. And just as he was about to open his mouth in protest, she looked intently at his eyes. "Don't let them take you alive. I mean it. This is how it is – with war. Especially the kind the Sith choose to wage. They do take prisoners – especially ones like you."

The implications of her words unnerved him. She was so direct, so frank. But she had to be, didn't she? This new turn of events – whatever it was, it wasn't good – was so unexpected. She had switched back to her role as a warrior, and in her eyes, he was part of the innocents she strove to protect. But an urge burned within him. He saw an opportunity to shake off this role and to become something greater. He found himself staring at her lightsaber.

But Mataki and James weren't focused on him any longer. They were glancing at each other, their brows creased with worry.

_Why couldn't I sense them?_ asked James, opening up his mind to Mataki.

_That's not our main concern at the moment_, she responded.

James shut his eyes, trying to focus. _There are so many, Elori. Too great a number to simply return to search for survivors._

_Then they must be here for something else_.

_What would bring them back?_

_I don't know_.

She promptly shut off her lightsaber, and turned to look at Javin and James in turn. "If we choose to fight this fight, it's very likely that we face death blindly." She sighed. "But I am a general no longer. If the two of you choose to face them, I will follow."

Javin studied her intently. Yes, this was definitely the sister he did not know.

James gazed warily at the darkened entrance, anticipating Malak himself to emerge from within. "You do have a point. Let's make ourselves scarce."

The three retreated to the other side of the gardens, from where they were able to enter another section of the Temple. They walked quietly along the corridors, with James leading the way.

* * *

"Where are we going?" asked Javin, wincing just as soon as he spoke. Even with lowered voices, the noise sounded painfully loud as it ricocheted against confines of the hallways.

"Security chambers." replied James, and then after glancing back, "And keep your voice down."

Mataki followed close behind Javin, constantly looking behind them. Her concerns mounted by the minute. Something about this entire event unsettled her greatly. Perhaps part of her anxiety lay with the reality that she had now more than just herself to defend. Javin was inexperienced and tended towards impulsiveness over caution. But no, defending civilians was something she had done for years. This was different. He was her brother. Her blood. If he was gone, then she would dissipate as well. Which meant that ultimately, was she defending herself?

She stumbled slightly, and picked up the pace. Stealth and constant worry made bad bedfellows, she realized. One will not tolerate the existence of the other. But she could not help herself.

The other portion of her frustration dealt with the fact that she was obviously numb to the Force. As much as she hated to admit it, she longed for its guidance now more than ever. To have to rely on James, and yes, maybe even Javin, made her feel weak. Perhaps she needed to be humbled. But why now instead of any other more opportune moment in time?

They finally emerged from the myriad of corridors and rooms, and soon faced a large pair of heavyset doors. A plain, insignificant pad lay on the side of the doors, and James ran up to it. He placed his palm on it, and a hologram beamed in front of him, slowly panning across the contours of his face. After a minute, the large doors swung open inwards, and the trio walked in hurriedly.

James accessed the computer's mainframe with ease, causing Mataki to raise her eyebrows.

She said nothing however, as James quickly answered her unspoken question. "It pays to have contacts on the Council."

Javin looked at him. "You mean this Atris?" He furrowed his brows. "Pardon me for saying so, but if you said she foresaw all of this, why did she run instead of trying to stop it?"

"What would you have done?" snapped James. And then, recovering himself, "I'm sorry."

Mataki ventured, "She is trying her best. As we all are." Her face looked downcast. "It's likely that she had the best judgment among us all."

Javin didn't flinch at the horrible implications of Mataki's comment. Instead, he looked at her grimly, his jaw set. "I'm not ready to take a loss after we've come so far."

Unbeknownst to either sibling, James smiled slightly, quietly thankful for Javin's optimism. And then his smile vanished. He knew enough to understand that optimism could easily be converted into a rash, and often disastrous, act. The boy was eager to prove his metal, and even though he felt it was his duty to quash his nature, he couldn't bring himself to do so. However slight, Javin's presence brought fresh hope to their situation. Here was someone who actually believed that they could not only escape with their lives, but with their souls intact.

Or perhaps he simply had no idea of what they were to face.

James pulled up some of the holographic surveillance screens, instructing the mainframe to display strategic live footage based on his search criteria. To his dismay, an error flashed before him. He re-entered the information only to arrive at the same result.

Mataki pointed at the error, and spoke, trying to keep her voice calm. "Can't we fix it?"

James shook his head in frustration. "I don't even know what this command refers to."

"Why aren't we seeing anything?" asked Javin.

"I don't know!"

"Does the security system shut down by default if the Temple is under attack?" asked Mataki.

James pursed his lips thinking. "It shouldn't. If anything, it will send out messages to other Jedi, instructing them to return. But that has nothing to do with surveillance." He slammed his fist in frustration onto the table before him. "I don't have the necessary codes to bypass whatever this bug is. Others might. But they're not here, are they?"

"Pull up some other shots. Maybe some vids got short circuited before – there may be others that are still active." instructed Mataki.

"You think the Sith somehow managed to disrupt security?" asked James. "How could they have? They only just got here. Efficient though they may be; you have to admit – this is a little uncanny."

She closed her eyes, with realization slowly creeping over her. "They did this before. Before they even came here to kill. All feeds must have been disrupted from the very beginning. Which means that – "

"– someone from within the Jedi did it." finished Javin. "Which in turn means that this whole thing was planned down to the last detail. They're here for a reason."

"What kind of reason?" asked James. He paused briefly, as if straining to hear something. He looked at Javin, "Do you feel that?"

From the fear on his face, James could tell that he had. Mataki glanced back and forth from their faces in turn, and then frowned. She moved towards the door decisively. "This has been our stupidest idea yet. We should have left when we had the chance." She started to open the large doors when James started to speak.

Just as the door slid open, she found herself face to face with their enemy.

* * *

"Where the hell did they get those speeders from?" muttered Yustan, peering down from behind a wall of large dusty rocks. The pair had succeeded in finding a small outcrop of rocks which effectively hid them from plain sight.

Atton shrugged, quite indifferent to how the Sith managed to obtain such transportation. He gazed down at the group that whizzed by, leaving billowing clouds of dust in their wake. He turned to look at Yustan, a small gleam in his eye.

"Say, have you any clue as to how we're getting out of here?"

She looked back at him and tried to maintain a level of patience in her voice. "I was going for the old-fashioned method of travel – walking. But I can clearly gather that you have an alternative. And I'm not going to like it."

He grinned. "I was hoping we could hitch a ride with our friends out there."

Yustan almost leapt for his throat. "Are you mad?" she hissed between clenched teeth. "If you want to sign a death warrant, let it be your own and leave me out of it!"

And before she could say anything or stop him, he stumbled to his feet, leaving her gaping behind him. He paused very briefly, and said, just so she could hear him, "Don't worry, I have it completely under control."

* * *

The figure stood before them. His eyes were blank and devoid of emotion, and his face was deathly pale – obviously not from fear or exhaustion, but from something darker and of pain. Behind him stood similar figures, positioned in such a manner that should the three attempt to escape by way of speed, they could not succeed. "You would be well-advised not to resist. I assure you, we are not here to cause deliberate harm." he said.

_I'll believe that after the galaxy freezes over,_ thought Mataki sardonically. _Or maybe it already has_. Instead she said, "We're not here to fight –"

"– Good. Then you will make this easier on yourselves."

"_But we are not here to surrender either_." stated Mataki, clearly annoyed at having been interrupted. "If we have nothing to fear from you, then allow for us to leave. We will cause you no harm if you reciprocate in kind."

"But your companions are Jedi."

She swallowed, slightly unsettled. It took her longer than she expected to get used to the fact that she was no longer Force sensitive. "With respect for the dead, both yours and ours...in their name we ask for a temporary truce." Her mind was chugging rapidly, trying to find some way to gain enough time to assess her opponents' arsenal. She was aware that in most cultures across the galaxy after a battle, a day or two was allowed for the living to mourn and bury the dead. But these were Sith. And it was well-known that the Sith never mourned for the deceased. "You have fought your battle and have your victory. We only ask that you honour the dead by allowing us to pass in peace."

"We have a different ritual for honouring the dead. And we do not have our victory, not yet." With that, he turned around and gave the briefest of nods to his counterparts. Before Elori, James or Javin could react, the room was filled with plumes of green smoke. Instinctively gasping for air, they could do nothing but inhale the acrid smog and collapse into darkness on the floor.

* * *

Mataki glowered at him angrily. "Look it's obvious you have certain capabilities that I don't. But that doesn't mean you can leave explanations out of this mess. You know something I don't, and either out of sympathy or protection, you're keeping it from me. Force or no Force, I'm not completely bereft of rational thought!"

The three sat miserably in the cramped confines of their cell, each with their hands neatly cuffed together. They had been conscious now for more than an hour, and after initial exchanges to see if everyone was of suitable health, James and Javin had been swapping worried glances at each other, and towards what lay outside of their small prison. At first, she had dismissed it to obvious fear and anxiety, but there was something more ominous about their mannerisms – as if they were privy to something she was not.

"If you'll give me chance to explain," ventured James, after considerable thought.

Mataki opened her mouth for another outburst, but stopped short as Javin pleaded with her. "Elori. I feel it too. It's something both James and I are afraid to mention. But you deserve to know."

"They're fighting a war in here." spoke James after a deep breath. "And if they're successful, the Republic will know of it. The galaxy will know of it. Revan's always fought a war of conversion, and his agenda has spread through the ranks. We don't have just Malak and his minions to fear, Elori, there are others. Other Sith Lords. And they're here. To fight for the most prized possession of all."

"And what would that be?" she asked.

"Think." instructed James. "Lives are constantly lost in battle. But if you're true to your ideals, you will die in peace."

She began slowly, "...but if you forsake them,"

"...you lose your soul." completed James.

She looked pained and confused. "I don't understand. They've been doing this for millennia. What's different from all the killing? Are they increasing the death toll?"

"They're making a point, Elori."

"Well, that's an understatement." she muttered.

"I know. And Javin knows. Why? Because they want us to know. But you're not hearing them as Javin and I are." He looked away from her as he continued to talk. "All those Jedi that survived, they're here. And they will face their opponents here – and they will be fighting for a truth. It's the oldest ritual in the book. You face your combatant armed with similar weapons and your beliefs. Whoever's belief is the strongest, wins. To the victor go the spoils. If a Jedi faces a Sith and loses, he does not forfeit his life. He forfeits his soul to the claim of the stronger belief."

"The stronger belief is not the same as brute strength! If you lose because of exhaustion, your soul _cannot_ and _will not_ succumb to it!" exclaimed Elori.

James smiled. "You're right. Which makes this battle a little different from everything else we've fought. Obviously, they had considered this before coming here. And if they succeed, they will want the Republic to know that it was conducted in a manner such that both opponents had an equal chance of winning. This may be a small battle in terms of size, but if we lose, few will remain who have faith in the Jedi."

"We can give them a battle to remember, if it's a fight they want."

"The Temple is allegedly rigged with explosives. If we choose this, we could take the remaining Jedi down with us." sighed James.

She leaned back against the wall and exhaled, trying to take it all in. If James was right, if all of this madness somehow had a purpose, there was nothing they could do except battle against it. But it wasn't a fight with mere weapons. It required the best of what lay inside them, and for her, the worst. The near future culminated into vivid images inside her mind. How would they face their opponents? What would they use to break them? If James fell, if she fell...perhaps their Jedi training would help them die an honourable death. But Javin was so young, and James, if not she, was more than aware of his untapped potential. If he could sense it, there was no doubt that their enemy could. The Sith could exploit them both in an attempt to..._no, no. Don't think it_, she ordered herself. She would not allow him to reach such a dark end.

_The question remains_, said her voice, _when it comes down to it, are you prepared to do what is absolutely necessary?_

She looked at Javin. He was looking elsewhere, but his gaze, it was her own. He was an innocent. Undamaged, until he met her. And in that instant, she knew what she had to do.

Blameless he was then, and blameless he would be in death.

* * *

"Blast if you aren't the worst damned rider I've met!" shouted Yustan as she and Atton sped up above ground on their newly acquired speeder. "How can you possibly be a pilot and not steer this thing?" She clung tightly to Atton in fear of being thrown off the bike.

"I think we lost them," said Atton, his voice barely audible above the roar of the bike's engine.

Yustan shut her eyes tightly as they swerved to avoid another rock.

"You alright back there?" he said over his shoulder.

She dug her fingers into Atton's shoulders. "Oh, just swell."

"I can see Coruscant's skyline from here. Looks like the entire planet hasn't been leveled."

She kept her eyes closed, and her stomach gave a wrenching heave as the speeder dropped sharply off an incline and leveled itself. "I'll take your word for it."

"Stick with me sister, and we'll go places." smiled Atton, his emotions buoyed at this turn for the better.

_As long as it isn't the afterlife,_ thought Yustan, as Atton gunned the engine and sped faster towards the planet's capital.

* * *

"If we're not prisoners, then remove these shackles and release us," spoke James, as they were led through the Temple's maze of hallways by four armed Sith. He soon began to realize that none of their captors were troopers or soldiers. Of what he'd seen, most were definitely better trained in the arts of the Sith and were awarded the gift of creating and carrying their own lightsaber. Perhaps they were Sith apprentices, then. _But if this were so,_ he thought – his stomach sinking, _then we face better warriors, and on a larger scale than we have before_.

Their escorts did not reply, but James could sense each wave of anger bubble to the surface and get pushed back down. _Now why would they do a thing like that,_ he thought?

_Anticipation,_ came Mataki's voice in his head.

He smiled despite himself. Her voice was a welcome presence. _I suppose any sudden moves on our part would be cut down…?_

_Figuratively and literally_, she responded.

_Everything I said, earlier, what if it's merely a trap? What if they've clouded our minds and mean for us to accept defeat?_

_You have been trained by Atris. Don't underestimate yourself or your abilities. _

_So it's true then. We are being led..._

_...to whatever fate awaits._

* * *

Soon, the three were led into an arena at the center of the Temple. Despite its large size, it was reserved exclusively for Jedi Masters to test their skills against one another. Such contests were not frequent, but were considered important, and were often judged by more than three members of the Council. Severe injuries were tolerated on the dueling floor, but not if they were given or received in anger. The participants trod a thin line separating their better emotions from their darker ones, and they were aware of it. Because of such knowledge, the grounds where they stood were sacred, and represented what lay at the hearts of most men and the powers which reined them in. It had seen no deaths, out of respect for the Jedi teachings and everything they stood for.

But today, James knew, was different.

He looked up at the stands, and was directed to pews where a few other Jedi were seated, similarly shackled but painfully aware of their circumstances. Javin sat next to him, and to his dismay, he noticed that Mataki was being pulled away by one of the Sith apprentices. He rose in protest, and was firmly shoved down without dignity.

James watched as she was led away, and turned quickly to comfort Javin. The boy was certainly afraid – his face could not mask it. But there was an underlying emotion that seemed to give him calm. Perhaps he had done something that James could not: come to terms with their situation, however grim. Or perhaps he simply was not aware of what lay in store for them.

_James_, spoke Mataki through their link, _listen..._

He stopped his own thoughts, hearing the conversation that she allowed for him to hear, between the Sith and herself.

"_You are no Jedi. It is not necessary for you to partake of this ritual." spoke the Sith._

"_And what ritual would that be?" asked Mataki._

"_Our leaders have resurrected centuries-old teachings that help us weed out the weak from the strong. It is imperative for the progression and survival of the Sith."_

"_I have never heard of such a ritual."_

"_You are familiar with Darth Cyrus? If so, then you would know that it was he who brought about such culling of the frail. If you stop to consider the obvious, you would realize that what we do is merely mimicking nature herself. Our beliefs empower us, but as years progress, this strength becomes diluted. By both our kind and our enemies. We fight for survival, nothing else."_

"_If you, in turn, are familiar with the teachings of the Jedi, then you would know that survival is possible without bloodshed." _

"_Tolerance is for the weak." He smiled, suddenly unnerving her. "But this is what it is all about." He gestured around him. "This is where two conflicting views meet, and where an ultimatum is reached."_

James breathed in deeply. So it was true, then. He closed his eyes, and shut off his mind, refusing to listen to their conversation any further. He looked up at the intricately carved domed ceiling of the arena, his eyes pleading with any force that could hear him, to give him strength.

* * *

"I wish to rejoin my friends." stated Mataki for the tenth time, as she was being made to wait, with two armed Sith by her side. She wanted to strike them both down, but she knew that she wouldn't get very far without having to compromise between her escape and the lives of those she cared for.

Her flanking guards remained mute. Not long after, she heard the sound of footsteps approach her, and looked up to see a man – or what was once a man – look back down on her. His eyes were narrow, black slits and his mouth equally thin. Spidery-blue veins underlined his pale grey skin that morphed into dreadful patterns as he spoke.

"General Mataki. The last place I would expect to see you is here. Revan said that you had fled from him in fear. I was so disappointed in you when I heard the news. But I must confess that I am delighted that you proved him wrong."

Mataki started to rise from her seat to face him, but he gestured, in a mock parody of a kindly host to his guest, for her to remain seated. "No, no, please. No need for such formalities between old friends."

"Gracen," swallowed Mataki, trying to remain unmoved, "You've changed somewhat since I last saw you."

The Sith nodded to the two guards, who immediately abandoned their positions, leaving the room. He turned his attention back to her. "Let's just say that for old time's sake, I'll let you address me by my former name."

She shook her head in slight disbelief. "You're just itching to tell me who you've become, aren't you?"

"Darth Xaiver, actually." He folded his arms across his chest as he leaned back into a chair. "I am finally who I was truly meant to be after all these years."

"And that is not a father, not a husband, not a brother. Just Sith."

A flash of pain crossed his face. And then he smiled again, but there was a touch of malice in his voice. "I do not take my title lightly. Being Sith towers over the other duties I had."

"What did your wife and daughter have to say about it?" persisted Mataki.

His face grew emotionless, but he clenched in his fist by his side. "You mean to bring the old Gracen back by a mere mention of words, do you?"

She stared at his clenched fist. "I am not the one resurrecting old memories. You are." Leaning forward, she emptied the coldness from her voice and spoke to him gently. "Gracen, for what it's worth, allow for yourself to see what you have become. You were my friend, I trusted you with my life. For all the destruction and pain we endured together, for everything we promised we would never repeat...you cannot allow for this to happen. If not for me, remember Tsian and Bess. You hurt their memories – those of your wife and child – you taint them by...by _this_." She nodded in his direction.

His eyes blazed at her. But she realized that it was the emotions of her former friend that showed through, and not the darkness he believed to embellish. "And what are they but memories? The point at which I'm at now...they may as well be figments of my imagination. They can do nothing but..." his voice suddenly trailed off, and he cocked his face to one side, studying her.

In that instant, she knew that whatever contact she had with his innermost feelings was cut off. He spoke to her, the hate burning up the remainder of friendly ties they once possessed. "You too, Mataki, are a thing of the past. You come here, falsely trying to salvage my soul in order to save the Jedi. I see through you."

She looked into his narrow eyes, pleading. "The Jedi exiled me! What reason would I have to save them? I don't serve any order, Gracen! Only those who wish to live – _really _live!"

He stood up, and scowled down at her. "I was not aware of my vulnerability to objects of my past. But I am now, and I resist you. It is one more step towards breaking the chains that bind me. As you well know, the duels your friends have to face will prove, finally, who is right and who is wrong. It is as simple as that. And once the Sith declare victory, I hope you will realize the error of your ways." He turned to leave, and stood in the doorway, not turning to address her face to face. "Quite frankly, if I had the authority to do judge you, severe pain would help you realize the error of your ways. But that is not the case, as my Master will soon show you."

* * *

The hooded figure gestured silently for her to rise. As she did so, Mataki wished that this was the last conversation she would have with such men. She peered into the darkness of his cloak, but was unable to discern any features. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle, and seeped in what was obviously centuries-old knowledge.

"My pupil informs me that you are no longer a Jedi. If that is the case, then you are free to leave. This ritual is for Jedi and Sith only. Please." He stepped to a side, allowing a clear path for her to exit.

She froze, clearly uncertain of what to make of this sudden development.

He sighed, as if tired with the indecisiveness of an impatient child. "Clearly, you wish to endure more suffering. I feel that I must stress that freedom is yours, served on a platter before you."

"It's not true freedom." said a small voice, and she realized it was hers.

"That's all relative, my dear."

"Then," she looked towards his hidden face, "relative to _my_ beliefs, I shall never be free."

"You choose to stay and watch then?"

"I choose to participate."

She felt him hold his breath. He pondered her words for several moments. "According to tradition, you need a participant to vouch for your abilities. Will your companions speak for you?"

Her hands grew cold. She knew that neither James nor Javin would want for her to remain. If at least one life had the chance of surviving, they would want it to be so. She would have to convince him without their help. "I was a Jedi. I fought in many battles, surely Gracen has informed you."

"You being a mere warrior has nothing to do with this contest."

It instantly dawned on her that flaunting the medals and scars of war would have no effect here. "What would you have me do to join?"

Although invisible to her, she felt him smile. "Would it give you that much peace of mind to face this large of a trial?"

"Yes." she confessed, giving in to the obvious. Now was not the time to contain what she had felt for so long. "Jedi or not, I am tied to the fate of those whose paths I once walked. I've tried to break away, but the more I struggle, the more intertwined I become. Although I am not one of them, I believe in what they died to achieve. I cannot endure the alternative."

"So _simple_." He rested his hand on her shoulder. "Would that it was you who was my apprentice! But you have been touched by an unseen hand that only few Sith and Jedi have felt. And you are beyond reach of either of us. You are true to yourself, child. You do not waste time with paltry words without meaning. You want a clear conscience in life or death. Whether some call you a coward or hero for it – it will not matter. Do not fret, I will allow you to participate. And you cannot and will not have an unworthy opponent."

"Who will I face then?" she asked quietly.

"Myself."

* * *

She rejoined James and Javin in the stands. Hushed whispers between combatants were even quieter than what they once were. She stood between her friend and her brother, and saw Javin's face visibly light up in relief at her return.

"I thought they –" he began.

She smiled at him. "If they did, you would know, along with a couple others in here. I'm not going down without a fight. So." She looked at the vacant grounds in dreaded anticipation, "When do they call our number?"

"Soon, I suppose." Javin said quietly. "Ah. Look."

And just at that moment, the hooded figure, the man she had spoken with minutes before, came out slowly onto the grounds. He stood in the center, and raised his hands ceremoniously in the air. A loud resonating cheer resounded around the large room. The Jedi remained silent, watching the event unfold with great trepidation.

"Friends, and adversaries. I address you both before this tournament commences. By now, all of you are aware of the great part you shall play in history." He held a placating hand in the air, to still the roars of the Sith. "I will not postpone the contest any longer, but there are words I must speak to my opponents before we begin. I am truly sorry for the nature by which many of you were brought here. I would that you would come here and participate of your own free will, but that is not part of your constitution. And do not misunderstand that our acts occur out of disrespect for the Jedi. I, along with many of my kind, have nothing but reverence for the greatest warriors we have faced since the beginning. Despite the frailty of your ideals, you continue to stand, and I can do nothing but applaud you for your bravery. Out of both courtesy and respect for you, I feel that it is our responsibility to show you the true paths you can tread, the ultimate potential you can attain."

There was silence now, as he continued. "We are Sith, and that name carries with it no weaknesses. Today, you shall see how. And you shall feel. Yes, despite your training, you will undoubtedly feel our teachings touch your very core. And you shall be convinced as you face us." He seemed to look into the eyes of every Jedi that stood in the stands. "But do not fear – this will be a fairly fought battle. You have nothing to fear but yourselves." He bowed his head briefly, as if chanting a few words under his breath. Looking back up, he spoke, "May the strongest be victorious."

With that, the Sith started to pound the ground rhythmically with spears, causing it to vibrate in an attempt to put fear in the hearts of their enemies. Mataki, James and Javin turned their attention to a Jedi – shackled as they were – who was led down to the grounds by a Sith apprentice. Behind him followed a young girl, Jedi as well. Awaiting them in the stands stood their two opponents – a man and a boy who appeared to be the same age as the girl.

It was obvious that there was great anxiety about the Jedi. He kept turning around to look at his younger counterpart, and whispered softly into her ear. Her face was steadfast and calm, and she nodded each time he spoke. His adversary moved to face him, and bowed respectfully before him.

He shouted to the stands and finally to the Sith and Jedi, "Release their bonds, and bring down their weapons! Know that if any of you choose to come between either participant, you breach tradition, and shall face immediate death." He turned to face his foe. "Cenri Four, I greet you. My apprentice and I wish to challenge yourself and your Padawan."

The Jedi stood his ground and replied. "If you wish to do battle with me, I accept. Leave her out of this – she is no Jedi Knight."

The Sith sneered at him, his respect dissipating fast. "Battle waits for no man. Either you are prepared or you die. If she forfeits participation, she forfeits her life." He turned to the girl. "What will it be?"

"I choose to participate." she said quietly.

"Dana!" cried out her Master. He spoke to her fiercely. "You have no idea of what we're engaged in!" Desperate, he turned to the Sith. "She is not in the right state of mine to make this choice! If you would – "

"The girl has made her decision. Ah. Your lightsabers." concluded the Sith, offering the weapons to his opponents. "Please take your places."

The Jedi led his Padawan to the opposite end of the ground, his hand placed comfortingly on her back. "Do not let them take you. Watch for my signals. And watch yourself. You know what I mean." he whispered.

The Sith's apprentice charged, leaping into the air without warning. Javin cried out instinctively from the stands, realizing that the Padawan was not ready to receive his blow. A blue saber immediately intercepted the momentum of its red counterpart and Javin sighed in relief to see the Jedi protect his Padawan from certain death. "Dana! Watch the other one!" he cried, grunting against the strength of his young adversary.

She turned to look about her, and dodged the quick slash of another red blade. She rolled forward to avoid his oncoming attacks. But despite her quickness, he was obviously more experienced and met her movements with anticipation. He leapt to block her motions in midair, and she skidded to a stop in front of him.

He smiled and struck. And struck. With each blow she blocked, he drew her further backwards. "Why don't you fight me? I mean, _really _fight me?" he mocked.

Her breathing was fast.

"Could it be that you're afraid?" he spoke, as he held his lightsaber against hers and struck out with his fist against the side of her face.

"Dana!" called out her master. She stumbled backwards, seeing stars momentarily. Recovering herself quickly, she heard him call out to her again. "By my side _now_!"

She ran flat out to her master's side, fervently hoping that her enemy was not too close behind her. But a burning pain streaked across her back and she fell forward, still conscious. Struggling to get up, she was pushed back down with the use of a boot against her neck. Her attacker shouted out to his apprentice. "Calor! Do it now!" He pulled her up by her hair, and she yelled out in pain. "See! Your Jedi teachings will prove of no use to him now!"

With that, he shot out his hand, and blinding streaks of lightning came forth, assailing the Jedi, her master. She watched in muted horror as he grimaced from the pain but kept fighting off the blows from his opponent. Somehow, she pulled herself up and wrenched herself free from the grip of her captor. She staggered forward, lightsaber ignited, when the apprentice saw his opportunity to bring an end to his battle, and dove his red saber into the man's chest. Cenri Four stared vacantly out in front of him, and then slumped to the floor.

Dana stood frozen, her muscles still tensed, her mind still watching the spectacle unfold in disbelief.

The Sith was quickly by her side, but his lightsaber was not ignited. "He was not strong enough for a Sith _Apprentice_, it seems." He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. Her face was void; like that of her dead mentor's. He continued. "But if you must know, child, he was considerably weakened before this fight. By none other than my pupil who insisted on interrogating him to your whereabouts. But your master would not yield...and perhaps he has now paid the price for it." The slightest of grins passed along his mouth. "You could say that it was no fair fight."

She turned her head slowly in his direction and studied him. Finally she looked back at the Apprentice approaching them both. He wore a smile of triumph on his face, and his lightsaber swung at his side as he walked. Without warning, she leapt into the air with a shout and began to shower him with blows. Taken off guard by the ferocity of his attack, he could nothing but parry, ducking as her blades cut colourful arcs around him.

He called out to his teacher. "Master!"

But he stood where he was, observing the situation with his hands placed behind his back. He spoke words under his breath, smiling. "_Use your anger, Dana. Use it. For you are much stronger than he_."

His words seemed to fuel her. She threw full effort into her forward movements, cutting off any chance the boy had at retreat to a safer position. It wasn't long before her blade struck the side of his hand, and his lightsaber fell from it. She ducked and rolled sideways to pick it up, and came back at him with a blade in each hand. The boy's face was aghast with fear, and he cried out once more for help before he was swiftly silenced.

She towered over his lifeless form, breathing hard.

"How do you feel, Dana?" asked the Sith, approaching her calmly.

"_Get away from me_."

"Or else would you take me on by yourself?" he asked. "Do you feel so empowered that you choose to face a Sith Lord?"

"I don't care. If you come near me, I will kill you." She started walking towards the fallen body of her master. "And if you come near him, I will kill you."

"He is already dead. As are you. Unless you choose a new life."

Her face contorted in pain, and she reigned in her feelings quickly. "Leave me to mourn in peace. You have your victory and your ritual. Just leave me be." She knelt beside her master's form, and gently caressed his expressionless face.

"Is that your choice? The path of sadness?"

Her eyes looked up at him in obvious pain. "There is nothing for me! I have failed the Jedi, my Master, and myself!"

He offered his hand, palm turned upwards to her. "You have not failed me."

She rose to her feet, eyes blazing in fury. She spat out her words with hate. "I may have failed in the first test, _Sith_. But not in the second. _I will never serve you_. _I am a Jedi_."

He bowed his head for a second, and with lightning-quick movement, he executed her with his lightsaber. She fell dead across the body of her teacher.

"_So close_," whispered her executioner, as he walked away.

* * *

"Where are you taking us?" asked Yustan, staring at Coruscant's skyline as they rode away from it.

"Out of the lion's den," explained Atton. "And we need to make a pit stop since we're low on fuel."

"We don't have time for detours!" she argued.

"This is one detour worth making. _You_ served with the Republic, don't you recognize where we're headed?"

"After the Sith redecorated the place, I'm sorry, I have no clue." She looked pleadingly at him. "Atton please, there is no more time to waste. We simply have to reach Coruscant as soon as we can!"

"And what good would one Jedi and one wounded pilot prove against so many troopers?" he shot back.

She sighed, defeated. He continued, a little more kindly. "Listen, I served with the Republic before I switched sides. I was stationed briefly at a hidden airbase nearby. There's a chance that if some others have assembled there, we can come up with a counter-assault. If the Sith have taken control of Coruscant, there are some strategic places we can choose to strike from. But we need the means to do so. I don't know about you, but I think this speeder isn't classified as dangerous from a military standpoint."

She patted him lightly in the back as a sign of her agreement. She chastised herself for reacting instead of thinking, and watched with growing hope as the bland scenery whizzed by her.

* * *

Javin watched quietly as the two bodies were dragged away. He had wanted to shout out words of warning during the fight, but sharp glances from Elori stayed him. Now that the first duel was over, the churning in his stomach grew considerably worse, and his parched tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth. He couldn't help but imagine that it could have been him who felt the brunt of the blade. A lump caught in his throat, and he forcibly held it there.

How that this all happened? Could he close his eyes and wish for what it was worth to return home back to the safety of Endor? He wanted something more than mere complacency and he got more than he had bargained for. If there was no going back, then what remained? He remembered the face of the Jedi Padawan, remembered her disappointment for herself. For those she let down. He couldn't let it all turn out that way. Despite the surrealism of this entire situation, it was real, and his choices could have consequences.

But he wasn't ready for it.

And he wasn't ready for the iron grip of the arm that yanked him to his feet to lead him into the grounds.

* * *

"_He is not a Jedi!_" insisted Mataki, struggling against the four guards who held her back.

"I warn you," one of them stated, "if you continue this way, you will be forcibly removed and executed."

"As if we're all here of our own free will!" she shouted. And then, craning her neck to see where Javin was, she shouted. "Take me instead!"

"The Force is strong with the boy – he can fight on his own. Unless you say otherwise." came down a voice. She recognized it as her combatant. The man she would soon face. Instantly, she knew the explanation to be a mere veil behind its true intention. _They knew_, the bastards knew Javin was no Jedi. They would exploit his inexperience to turn him. _But how would they do it?_

_Through you, Elori. They're searching for his weakness, and they've found it. _

_Me, _she repeated to herself_. I've sealed our fate. Me._

Her arms went lax, as she was led behind her brother down into the arena.

* * *

Her two opponents walked alongside each other, their black clothing rustling as they moved. She looked up into the stands and searched for the man who had brought about this dark mockery of a contest. She looked deep into the darkness of his cloak, and mouthed silent words that only the two of them would hear.

_No matter how this turns out, **friend**, I am not finished with you_.

He responded in equal silence. _I would expect no less of you_.

The binders of Javin's and Mataki's wrists were released. Two lightsabers were brought before them, and Javin awkwardly held it in his hand. Mataki recognized the other to be her own, confiscated from her just hours before. She looked at her opponents, gauging their outward capabilities and spoke. "You outmatch the boy. But not me."

Javin looked at his sister. She was not quite the one to boast. Something was making her desperate. Him?

"I suppose the secret's out isn't it?" she said through gritted teeth, looking at one of them. "If you so much as graze him, I will make you suffer." She looked at her other combatant. "And you. And the rest of inside this place you've desecrated. I assure you, I am no Jedi, and I will not hold back."

Javin's hands began to grow moist and cold. Not from what they were about to face, but from the gradual change taking over Elori's face. She was no longer his sister. Her eyes changed to a violet hue, and her face might as well have been set in stone. Afraid, he did what came naturally to him. He reached out with his hand and tried to take hers in his.

She grasped it in welcome, and her face softened. Her eyes were hers again.

She nodded for him to stand behind her. The first Sith circled them both whilst the other stood facing her, sizing her up. He struck the first blow and she neatly ducked underneath the swinging blade. She knew instinctively that the other would begin his assault on Javin simultaneously, so she leapt to his side and kicked out with her heavy boot at the second, sending him sailing backwards. She called out to Javin as she made sure her opponent was far enough away.

"_Watch your bloody back!_"

He turned around and swung his saber awkwardly in time to meet his adversary's. The Sith easily deflected the attack to his advantage and struck Javin a blow into his chest with his elbow. But despite the fact that he stumbled backwards, he seemed to be prepared for the hit, and brought his blade up in defense to parry the second assault. Mataki watched him out of the corner of her eyes, and was surprised to see his gift manifesting itself so suddenly.

She quickly directed her attention back to her charging assailant, and bent her knees slightly, keeping both feet firmly on the floor. She wanted a position from which she was granted a good view of Javin and clearly did not want to give ground, knowing that he was gaining momentum, building up the force for his attack. With a primal yell, he slashed at her from all sides. She had to spin around several times, pivoting with one heel firmly attached in place. She did not attack, she merely thwarted his attacks with the hope that he would soon tire. A large portion of her attention lay with Javin who, despite his quick ability to learn, was being beaten down. She saw him wince as the Sith's saber graze his shoulder, and cringed.

He was not learning fast enough.

She decided that it was time for this fight to evolve faster. Surprising the Sith who was challenging her, she quickly turned off her lightsaber and reached for her opponent's wrist, attempting to hold it firmly by one hand, lightsaber still in its clutches. He kicked out at her with his foot, but she sidestepped the thrust cleanly and simultaneously bent his wrist backwards. He stiffened its msucles to oppose this painful move, but she did not relent. Desperate, he reached out with his free hand and used to Force to fling her backwards. But his plan was only partially successful. She did not loosen her grip, and pulled him with her. The pair hit the side of the arena wall, momentarily stunned.

Blinking several times in an attempt to stop the spinning around her head, she saw his red saber coming at her between her eyes like an angry animal, and slid down just in time to avoid its fatal strike. But the blade burned her right temple, and a warmth spread down the side of her face soon after. Furious for allowing this creature to take first blood, she leapt to her feet and pulled his arm behind him, still holding his reddened wrist. The painful crack of bone rubbing against bone against nerve was heard, and the Sith dropped his blade crying out in agony.

She didn't have time to consider this small victory when she saw the shadow of another assailant approach her from behind. Part of her mind grew concerned – not at this fresh onslaught – but at the recognition that he had left Javin to turn his attention to her. She spun around and rolled out of his reach, feeling the lightsaber cut cleanly through the air. Looking around her she saw Javin leaning against a portion of the wall. He had doubled over, one arm crossing his stomach. She ran flat out towards him, feeling the Sith's presence close behind her.

"I'm alright –" he began, and then, "Behind you!"

Through her layered clothes, she felt the cold pierce of metal against skin, and clutched her shoulder reflexively. She saw that the Sith now was brandishing two weapons, his saber and a vibroblade. He twirled both in front of him, creating a dynamic shield that would prove lethal if not carefully breached. Behind him, she saw her first opponent stagger to his feet. Coming towards them determinedly, his eyes gazed at her with obvious menace. He did not intend to fall to her so easily.

Javin saw it too, and grunted. He stood up straight and ignited his saber. "This is _our_ fight. Handle this one, and leave the other to me."

Elori did not have much time to protest. Both blades cut at her, and she had to remain focused on the spinning weapons, studying the movements of his wrists. There it was. A weakness in his maneuvering; his muscles grew slack as each blade was brought up to repeat its circle. She thrust her saber neatly in between, and felt both his weapons hit hers with full force. But it steadied her and caused her opposition to lose ground. From the way his arms began to splay out to steady himself, she realized that good use of this moment could give her complete victory.

She grabbed her opportunity, and moved to strike.

* * *

Javin glared at his rival, taking in the limp arm that hung by his side.

"You think this weakens me?" sneered the Sith, nodding towards his injury. "You are an untrained runt."

Javin said nothing but gripped his saber with both hands, muscles tensed. Maintaining his distance, the Sith gave a great heaving breath and shot out streams of lightning at Javin. Realizing that one had already fallen prey to this tactic, he ducked out of its path, only to have it follow him, scorching the ground as it moved. If it eveloped him, he instinctively knew that it would freeze him into a painful position. Sparks rained down alongside him, and he continued to run, lightsaber still ignited. In that instant, and quite by chance, his saber got in the way of this new menace, and the blinding streaks were absorbed by his weapon. Grinning at this new piece of vital information, he turned around, lightsaber extended before him, and walked slowly against this force towards his assailant.

The Sith stopped his onslaught and raised his weapon with his good hand to contest Javin's.

* * *

Lingering over the Sith's dead body for a split second, she raised her head in Javin's direction. She saw him locked in combat and moved to help him. His opposition was bringing his full weight onto Javin's, and the boy was struggling with every ounce of his being to keep the weapon at bay. She broke into a run, realizing that this was the oldest trick in the book. When Javin was distracted enough by this move, the Sith would change tactics without warning, in the hope of catching the younger man off guard.

Already she saw the Sith's blade grate slowly towards its owner while maintaining a constant force against Javin. It was only a matter of seconds before he would yank it away and bring it crashing from an angle that Javin could not react quickly enough to. She ran harder, not wanting to shout at him lest that prove to be a fatal distraction.

And then, in slow motion, hearing nothing but her own breath, she saw the Sith swing away, sidestepping any attack Javin could muster, and thrust his blade at the younger man. The red beam made its way near his chest – Javin's lightsaber falling with a clink to the floor, and even before its heat touched flesh, she recognized that it would take nothing save for a miracle for him to dodge that strike.

The blade stopped in midair and its owner was jarred by the invisible impact. Mataki held her breath, observing the spectacle in disbelief. It had to be James. He had intervened, and it would not be long before the Sith would take his life for it. But then, another invisible force knocked the stunned Sith onto the floor. She stared at her brother, watching his hand held palm outwards, fingers splayed apart, at his challenger.

Wrenching herself from this stupor, she cried out to Javin, knowing that if he did not act now, he could easily turn back the tables leaving him open and vulnerable again. "_Finish it!_ Here!" She threw her weapon at him, and he caught it as it sailed towards him.

He held her green blade downwards, pointing at the Sith's throat and hesitated. He saw the undiluted fear in the man's eyes and Javin's hand trembled. In that instant, the man's fear gave way to recognition and he used the Force to bring his saber to his side. Sensing the movement of the instrument, Javin brought his lightsaber as close as he could get without serious injury to the Sith's flesh and spoke, his voice steady. "I wouldn't if I were you."

"I don't accept defeat!" spat the Sith.

"And I don't murder." he concluded.

"You don't understand the ritual well enough, do you?"

"Of course he doesn't." spoke Mataki who stood alongside Javin. She gently took the lightsaber from his hands, while keeping it pointed at the Sith, and looked upon his face with regret. In an instant, the regret morphed into contempt. In her mind's eye, she saw herself clinging to the side of a cliff, looking down into a black ravine. Without further thought, she loosened her fingers, and fell.

"Javin." Her voice was authoritative, commanding. "Get your weapon, it's behind me. And go to James. Quickly!"

He broke his gaze from the injured man and turned his back to them. As he stooped to pick up his lightsaber, he heard a distorted groan from behind him, and looked back to see Mataki standing over the newly deceased man.

Mataki strode forward with her shoulders drooped. He stood still, realizing what she had done. It brought back dark images from Nar Shadaar, and knew that she was feeling the same way. It was mire she had wanted to avoid entering again. But she had immersed herself in it once more.

She bent down onto one knee, and stretched out her hand across the man's chest, smearing her palm with his blood. She did the same to the other hand, and rose up, holding her palms for every spectator to see. She then turned towards the instigator of the ritual, her face pale and emotionless, and he stared back at her from his shrouded darkness.

"Here I am!" she cried out to them all. "Your brothers' blood lies upon my hands! Come and claim your vengeance! Come and partake of the empty feast!" An eager Sith near the hooded figure made as if to move down to meet her challenge, but he was held back by his superior.

"You want transformation? You want reform? I will give it to you." She bent her head and shut her eyes. When she raised both, Javin could feel a growing vacuum within her presence. The Force seemed to shy away from it, and all emotion; good and bad, was enveloped in its darkness. He blinked to steady himself. His sister did not stand before him any longer. Just a void. That continued to grow by the minute. He moved backwards slowly into the stands, unaware that it was her presence that he turned away from.

"Don't succumb to your awe, you fools!" she yelled. "Challenge me! My hell is worth more to you than whatever you can unleash on your adversaries!" She walked steadily towards the stand where the leader of these Sith stood. "I am not afraid of your pitiful apprentices. Or your best warriors. Or your teachings."

"Should I detonate the explosives, my Lord?" whispered the Sith near his master. He was clearly nervous, despite not knowing what kind of power she exuded.

Mataki laughed, uncannily anticipating this move. Its sound rang coldly across all their hearts – Sith and Jedi. "Go ahead and blast away. Save us the trouble."

James widened his eyes and tensed his muscles, bracing himself for an oncoming impact. But there were none. Instead, he sensed a mild wave of hope ripple across his fellow Jedi. It was obvious to them now that they did not have to endure this ritual anymore. A quick death would spare them any torment that their souls would soon face. And they were prepared to meet it.

Mataki narrowed her eyes, oblivious and apathetic to any change she was causing. "Make your choice."

The hooded man stepped forward from his position, and looked back down at her. "I do not bargain."

"Who said I was bargaining?"

"You cannot speak for the Jedi. You are not one of them." he stated, remaining equally calm.

She turned to James and the few other Jedi in the stands. No one spoke out. She turned back, her cold face speaking volumes more.

"You are turning this ritual into a circus," he hissed, anger finally seeping through.

"I have news for you, _friend._ It is already a circus. A sideshow led by a coward of a ringmaster." She rubbed her bloodied hands together, and brought them to her sides. "_I have had enough!_" she screamed. "If you hold so much faith in your beliefs, then end your hesistation!"

_Elori,_ spoke James through their link. He realized what was happening, and he knew it had to be stopped. She was allowing herself to be submerged, finally. She had stopped resisting. It frightened him, not knowing what force was claiming her. Not dark, not light. Just a blinding emptiness. She was not responding out of goodness for her fellow man. Her response was raw. Primal. A line had been crossed, and the other side of her soul lay exposed, displaying all its gore; muscle and sinew.

_Elori, listen._

Nothing.

She could not hear him any longer.

"Armour yourself with your faith, Sith! Because this is what it truly comes down to! Me and you. Do away with your ceremony and come and face me. The others can never show you what I can!"

A beat.

The Sith remained frozen in place, and then finally moved. He threw his hood back finally, revealing the face of a strikingly handsome man. His green eyes roved across the spectators before settling on Elori again. Without facing his guards, he spoke. "Kill the other Jedi. But if you touch a hair on her head without my consent, I will cast on you a worse death than you can imagine."

He walked down the stairs slowly, throwing his cloak off his shoulders. Ignoring the crowds and igniting sabers behind him, he strode to face Elori who now stood at the arena's center.

His voice, still calm and gentle, addressed her. "You are not the same woman I saw before."

"Shocking, isn't it?"

He saw his own reflection in her now-violet eyes and forced a smile. "What formalities remain, now that you have destroyed all pomp and circumstance?"

"Nothing but the heart of our battle."

"Words are but a –" he wasn't given time to complete his sentence. He ignited his lightsaber just in time to meet her own, the bloodlust in her demeanor peaking; insatiable.

* * *

A quote for us to ponder:

**"War does not determine who is right - only who is left."**

Bertrand Russell


	20. Chapter 20

Author's note

I know I'm not one who does romance inserts that frequently (you can ask me about the details later, and they will be given to you at the going rate), but I did throw something interesting in this chapter. I hope none of you saw this coming. (And for heaven's sake, no, I'm not pulling a Luke and Leia here!)

I also have a favour to ask of anyone here who speaks Portuguese. Do any of you know what "Cancao do Mar" means? I think it has something to do with the sea, but I'm not sure. In any case, I think it's a popular song in both Brasil and Portugal, and it's tremendously beautiful. Give it a listen if you haven't already heard it.

And last, but definitely not least, thanks to everyone who reviewed before and now.

* * *

**REPUBLIC MILITARY BASE, CORUSCANT**

They moved quietly through the sparse crowd, past the few remaining crafts that lay on the tarmac. Every now and then, a fighter would be launched, and the faces turn upwards, gazing at it as it left, hoping against all odds that this vehicle would have better luck against their enemy than the one before it. But their countenances were grim, and they were well aware of the odds stacked against them. To their knowledge, this was the only fully functional hidden military base remaining. Hours ago, word had just come in that the Sith had discovered another base, and had obliterated it from their radar.

As Yustan and Atton made their way into the underground compound, they received very few stares despite their burnt and shabby attire. A group of Republic pilots passed them without a moment's glance, nervously strapping on their headgear, and walked out into the open and into their waiting fighters. Atton slowed his pace down, looking back very briefly, wondering if part of him still felt that it owed allegiance to the Republic. He shrugged off the feeling without confidence, and proceeded to follow Yustan.

They entered a briefing room, where it was apparent that all crew had just recently been dismissed. A man remained standing with his back to them, his eyes directed to a moving hologram, depicting a second by second update of the ongoing battle above Coruscant. Atton knew, even without reading the man's face, the pain and despair that he struggled to keep at bay. It was obvious that the man believed he was fighting a losing war, but could not bring himself to unleash this despondency on the men he led.

Yustan stepped forward first. "Commander Bevin."

He turned around slowly, and his eyes lit up for the briefest of seconds as he evidently recognized her. He looked behind Yustan anticipating the arrival of more Jedi, but when none were forthcoming, his shoulders drooped slightly and his eyes regained their dullness. Not wanting to appear impolite, however, he feigned excitement and walked forward to greet Yustan, taking her hands within both of his.

"My dear girl – it's been far too long!"

"Commander," nodded Yustan, smiling.

He glanced at Yustan's torn and dusty attire and frowned sadly. "You too, eh?"

She couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes, Commander. Us as well. How we came to be here – well, it's far too much of a complicated story for me to relate here. Maybe over a glass of ale when all of this is behind us."

"And your companion...?" said Bevin, acknowledging Atton, while simultaneously hoping he was a Jedi as well.

"J – I mean, it's Atton Rand, sir." He offered out his hand and the older man accepted it.

Bevin nodded towards Atton's injury. "I won't even guess how long you've been bearing that, son. But I won't let you endure it anymore. Take yourself to med bay, and get that attended to. While you're at it, please get some rest." He looked at Yustan next. "You as well. We can have a long chat later."

"Commander –" began Yustan.

He shook his head firmly. "I have been out there long enough to know when a man has taken more than what his body can handle. You're a Jedi, I know, but you're still human." He glanced back and forth from Yustan to Atton. "You two look as if you haven't had a decent sleep in centuries."

_You have no idea what a man can endure_, thought Atton, before chastising himself severely for mocking Bevin's courtesies. Surprised at this rapid development of conscience, he involuntarily allowed for Yustan to pull him to a side and talk with him quietly. Still taken aback by these novel concepts of morality, he hardly heard Yustan speak.

" – and you really ought to get to med bay and get that looked at before an infection sets in." she finished.

"What about you?" he asked quickly, recovering himself.

"There are some things he needs to be informed of." She nodded towards the doorway. "Go on, I'll join you in a few."

He limped off, leaving the two in the room.

"Yustan, for as long as I've known you, you've refuse to take order from anyone. And you haven't changed." He regarded her in amusement.

Yustan did not smile back. "Commander, it's important that you understand the seriousness of our situation."

Bevin moved himself into a chair, and gestured for Yustan to follow suit. As she was seating herself, she spoke. "I have reason to believe that the Jedi Temple is under attack, and," her tone softened considerably, "that many Jedi are dying as we speak."

He looked down at his dusty boots. "I had guessed as much. We all did. But we didn't say anything about it in the open." He turned his gaze away from his feet and towards the empty chairs that lay around them. "For several hours after the first assaults, we had wondered why we had heard no word from the Jedi. No video contact, no audio...no word at all! Not even a message for help! Some of us here – we refused to believe that anything could have happened, and foolishly, we thought that it was only a matter of time before we would hear from them."

Yustan leaned forward and placed a reassuring hand on the old man's knee. "Commander, how long ago was it when the first assault commenced?"

"About three and a half days."

Yustan silently repeated his words. So long. So long, and no word from the Jedi. She had believed that many must have fought against the Sith and would have died, but surely some survivors remained who could contact a member of the Republic's military force? "Commander, if a Jedi were to relay a message to you, or to anyone else, how long would it take for you to receive it?"

"If it was coming from the Temple, it should take only a few minutes. If one of the other bases were taken out, it would automatically be transmitted to a recipient that acknowledged its arrival. Basically, it would have to be manually accepted, by one of our radio officers."

Yustan leaned back into her seat, discouraged. "And that hasn't happened..." she muttered, as more of a statement than a question.

Bevin shook his head sadly.

Inhaling deeply, she rose and strode purposefully to the holographic chart Bevin had been studying earlier. He followed her cautiously, and stood by her side as she looked at the moving, coloured blips.

"Give me a downplay of what's happened in the last three days, if you will." she asked. Within seconds, the commander pulled up holographic recordings of the movements of both parties above Coruscant. She studied them carefully, with him watching silently beside her. When the recordings ceased, she looked tired, even more so than usual.

"Right." she began, pointing at a scattering of blue specks amongst a mass of red ones. "You're not going to win this. We're stretched far too thin – all you're doing is sending pilots to their deaths." And then on looking at Bevin's drawn face, she placed a hand on his shoulder and continued. "I hate to be blunt, Commander, but that's the hand that's been dealt to us. The sooner we acknowledge our situation, the sooner we can devise steps to overcome it."

Bevin nodded slowly. "What steps do you propose we take?"

Yustan stared at before her for several moments, trying to think of an alternative. Any alternative. But no fresh ideas sprung into her tired mind, and she soon understood the grave situation that Bevin had been struggling with earlier. Clearly, he had considered pulling his men out, but could think of no replacement assault. Discouraged, and with no evident path to follow, he had grudgingly stuck to his course.

Suddenly, a voice piped up from behind them, jolting them out of their sad contemplations.

"It's amazing what some Kolto and a little Juri Spice can do for your health!"

Yustan and Bevin turned around to see Atton waltz in, wearing a clean set of clothes, wet hair slicked back, and a fresh cast on his injured leg. Yustan stared at him, gaping.

"How in the blazes did you do that so fast?"

He grinned at her and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Like I said. Juri Spice." He sauntered over to the holographic chart, and grimaced. "Ouch. That bad, eh?"

Yustan frowned. "_If you don't mind_, we have some work to do. Why don't you go –" she paused for lack of ideas, "– grab a few winks or something."

He ignored her. "That's some uncoordinated attack you've got there, commander."

Yustan winced despite herself. More brusqueness and less kindness were probably not the best gestures to heap on the tired Bevin. But surprisingly, he let out a sad laugh. "Don't I know it. But what else can I do? If I pull out what few fighters I've got, we've accepted defeat before the end. And we've failed without even trying."

"Who said anything about pulling out?" said Atton, eyebrows raised.

Yustan eyed Atton out of the corners of her eyes. He'd done it to her again. Underestimating Atton was something she had very much become accustomed to, so much so that it marred her ability to read the man and see the subtleties in his character that made him who he was.

_Juri Spice, my foot_, thought Yustan. _He obviously had something working around in that little mind of his, and couldn't wait to share it with the rest of us_.

"Well, out with it then." she scowled, unable to contain herself any longer.

He gave her a gracious smile that she mistook for cockiness and then turned back to the chart, his face suddenly growing serious. "First, you Republics have _got_ to shed off tradition, and face battles for what they are now."

"And what's that?" questioned Bevin.

"Dishonourable." answered Atton. "The Sith obviously didn't think twice about making this a fair fight, did they? They outnumber you a thousand to one. The ends justify the means, and the end for them is victory. Why don't you folks fight fire with fire?"

Bevin blinked at Atton. "Son, if you haven't noticed, I'm hard pressed on finding more pilots, and now's hardly the time to start recruiting them!"

"All I'm saying, is that they need to be punched where it hurts the most. And the only way you're going to be able to do that to a guy bigger than you is to distract him."

"How?" asked Bevin and Yustan simultaneously.

"Think big. Think colourful, flashy light display."

She didn't like where this was going. Atton continued, happily taking in her cautious bewilderment. _Scoundrel, you can take, but not the smarts to go with it, eh?_ he seemed to say. He walked casually across the room, hands stuck in his pockets. "You know, when I was a kid, there was this thing we learnt about some ancient civilization. There was this war, and one group had won. So this group that wins, yeah, they go and have their victory celebration. Food, lights, women, the works. Meanwhile, the group that lost had not quite accepted defeat. So they make this _ginormous_ wooden contraption and put their remaining best warriors inside of it, and leave it at their enemy's doorstep." Atton gestured with his hands dramatically. He seemed to be enjoying this build-up – Yustan could tell. "So when their enemy's see it, they think this is some kind of symbol of surrender, and drag this into their camp. And while they're heavily doused on alcohol, out come out the soldiers from this wooden thing. And these other guys are so stoned they can't do a danged thing about it." He stopped walking and stood facing them. "Just a tweak in the plot. Changed the whole course of history."

Bevin gaped at Atton. Yustan, having long gotten past that stage, put her hands on her hips and fielded his fly without batting an eye. "You propose launching yourself inside a giant wooden horse into space, now do you?"

"Something like that, yes." He grinned.

"I'm sorry to bust your bubble, hotshot, but the Sith aren't dumb enough to take that kind of bait. Neither are they soaking themselves in the spoils of victory."

He widened his eyes in feigned innocence. "I never for a second doubted your intelligence, Yustan. Which is why we now turn to our dear commander Bevin for the golden keys to enter Fort Sith. Because he, of all people, should have some kind of – oh I don't know – codes. Which he could have gotten from, say, an acquired Sith fighter somewhere along the way. Unless of course, Republic Intelligence isn't what it once was."

"What the _blazes_ are you insinuating, Atton?" yelled Yustan. She gestured at Bevin, who stood by himself, quietly. "Don't you think that if he had the means to spare his men their lives, he would have taken the chance to do so?"

All levity left Atton's face. He looked unblinkingly into Bevin's face. "I don't know. Would he have?"

Yustan, following Atton's gaze and his thoughts, turned slowly towards the older man. "Bevin...?" she asked quietly.

Commander Bevin swallowed. His eyes couldn't meet hers.

A growing disappointment and anger stirred within Yustan. Refusing to let it surface at a time when she did not need it, she forced politeness. "Commander, if you have something, _anything_...we had better use it while we still can."

He sank heavily into a chair. "Three weeks ago, when we fought with a few Sith over Torpaur, we were able to take in two prisoners. And their fighters."

"What about their vessel codes?" asked Atton quietly.

Bevin nodded. "The Sith change their security codes every standard month. I think. But we thought we would keep this information contained. We could only use it given dire circumstances."

Yustan walked slowly towards him, slightly stunned. This was not the Bevin she knew. Hadn't the situation been grave enough for him? Or was there some other agenda at stake? Before she knew it, Atton placed an arm on her shoulder, holding her back. He shook his head at her, no. He addressed Bevin with polite detachment. "Just give us what we need, and we'll be out of your hair. Have that ship prepped to go within the hour."

Bevin nodded, and buried his face in his hands as the two walked out.

* * *

They walked down the entryway quickly. Yustan buttoned up her suit, and turned to Atton questioningly. "You forgot your helmet,"

"I'm not flying." He twisted slightly to fasten a thick belt around his waist. On seeing this, Yustan's curiousity turned into mild alarm. She knew from experience that such belts were often used by the military to carry incendiaries over short distances. "Atton," she began.

He interrupted her. "That biggest blip on that screen back there?" he jerked his thumb behind him. "That's the mother vessel of our little Sith fleet. Command central."

Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know?"

"If you looked at each craft from different angles, you'll notice that they had one thing in common."

"Positioning," she muttered almost inaudibly.

He nodded. "They're in attack position, all right, but they're not compromising much ground – especially when it comes to protecting mother Sith."

"You think that vehicle controls the others? That's where commands are issued from? Or do you think that's where the power's generated from?"

He smiled at her. "Now you're catching on. Think about it. If a vessel doesn't have to house masses of generators and so on, they can use all that extra floor space for more of their fellow roomies."

"So you're going to simply waltz on in, and blow up everything including yourself, is that it?" She couldn't look at him.

He stopped walking, and looked down at his boots. He fiddled for a moment with his belt. "Are you afraid that too much depends on one scumbag of a man, Yustan? You afraid I'm going to ruin all our chances, eh?"

She turned to look at him, her eyes pained. "No. I'm afraid that you'll succeed."

Yustan moved towards him, and took his hand in hers. For the first time in a long time, she was unable to voice her emotions. Atton took in this new situation with a degree of surprise. He remained where he was, unmoving, and then on seeing her obvious sadness, took her face in his hands. He moved in slowly, and she quickly jerked away.

"No." she said firmly.

He stepped back, hurt, but this time not surprised.

"You're a class A imbecile, Atton. And what's more, you're a bigger fool if you let yourself think you're going into this alone. You'll have to incapacitate me in order for that to happen." She started walking briskly away from him.

He stared at her from behind as she continued. "And we'll deal with whatever _didn't_ happen when we get back."

Atton's scowl gave way to a grin. He was his cocky self again. "Can't stand to stay away from me, huh?" He ran to catch up with her. "Well, well...look who's melted the ice queen's heart. It couldn't be me, now, could it?"

He continued that way until they reached the ship.

* * *

The trip out of Coruscant's atmosphere was relatively peaceful. Theirs being a Sith fighter – they received not a single shot in their direction. Which just showed how well the Sith must have secured themselves on the ground. Thin wisps of cloud sailed quickly by them, and Yustan found her hands growing cold as she steered the fighter forward. She reached out with her free hand and adjusted the thermostat.

"You think Bevin knew, all along, that targeting this ship could give us some good ground? And why would he do that, if that's the case?" she asked Atton, who was seated with his back to her in the tight craft.

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask me that."

"Just biding my time," she smiled.

"My opinion? Yeah. He knew. That whole "oh-he's-just-a-sweet-old-man" persona didn't quite fit him. And anyhow, it's not one becoming of a commander in the Republic's army. He knew more than he was saying. Intelligence – of the enemy and one's own factions – is usually separate entity. Unofficially, of course. When I served with the Republic –"

"– you served with the Republic?" shot out Yustan.

"Yes, indeed I did." He turned around in his seat to face her. "Take your time, sweetheart, get to know me. There are lots of secrets to unravel."

"I'll bet." she muttered. "Anyway, go on."

"When I served with the Republic, it was more than just a rumour, that the Republic often captured Sith prisoners alive. Prisoners who were pilots were pretty big trophies – a fighter's registration and security code was solid stuff."

"But if the pilot didn't report back, wouldn't they think something was amiss? Wouldn't the code be redundant?"

"This, kid, is where you will find the Sith surprisingly lacking in inefficiency. Each fighter does not have its own code. Ten or twenty squadrons will have the same one. If you grab your pilot, steal his codes and such, report in from a set-up location by faking his identity, the Sith won't even know he's missing. There isn't enough time to check up on every fighter that goes awol. Besides, this lucrative business only took off about two years ago. And I bet the Republic doesn't do it often enough to be noticed. I'll give 'em that much credit."

They emerged from Coruscant's atmosphere and into a darkness lit up by stars. Away in the distance, some fighting was still going on – but it was toned down, its pace not as frenetic as it once was.

"You didn't answer my second question." said Yustan. "Why didn't Bevin use everything that was at his disposal?"

Behind her, Atton shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he takes his orders from someone else. He's certainly not stupid."

Yustan's face was grim. "If he's not as dumb as you claim, and someone else is pulling his strings, we have to find out who."

"It's not time to worry about that yet. Soon, maybe, but not yet." He tapped audibly on the second radar screen in front of him. "One Sith cruiser coming up. You about ready?"

Yustan swallowed and cleared her throat. "Just about." She switched on her intercom, and turned around, whispering in Atton's direction. "Signal's clear. Should I go ahead?"

He nodded.

"This is shuttle Vesper to Cruiser Tyrus, are you receiving me?"

Atton gave a grim smile. Nervous though she was, when it came down to it, she sounded as confident as he did on a good day.

There was a faint crackle of static. "This is Cruiser Tyrus to shuttle Vesper. Please slow down your entry speed, and give us your registration number for clearance."

Yustan lowered her speed, and did as he asked.

Several moments of silence followed, and both Atton's and Yustan's hands grew cold. Yustan bit her lip. She let out an inaudible sigh of relief when the voice over the intercom spoke.

"You're cleared for entry, shuttle Vesper."

* * *

It was only a matter of minutes before they turned off their engines, allowing for the cruiser's tractor beams to pull them inside. Yustan leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes to calm herself.

"If you have anything to say, sweetheart, now's the time." said Atton from his seat.

Yustan heard him squirming in his seat, obviously attaching various and sundry to himself – he was not going in unprepared. She swallowed. "Atton – about what happened before, at the base...I didn't mean to – what I mean is, I wanted to. Of course, part of me didn't, given what you had done in your past." She let it out, all of it, and it came out without warning or forethought. "But Mataki was right. The past is in the past. And even though you think this darkness is part of you, it's not who you are. I saw what you did, for Javin, and for me. And even though I didn't acknowledge everything in the way I should have...well, I'm sorry. Life is about second chances, huh? And you probably deserve it more than most. You can be so much more than who you claim to be." She shook her head, trying to clear out all her incoming thoughts. "Atton, I...I didn't want to give you much hope, because I didn't want to give it to myself either. Especially if we don't come out of this alive. If we do – then, we can give this more thought."

After she had finished, she realized that Atton had stopped moving. "Say something, please," she said.

He turned around in his seat, and slung his arm across the top of it, grinning. "I meant," he began slowly, "if you have anything to say about how we're going to make our way to the generators, you should have." He laughed, and touched the side of her face briefly. "But I'll take that response too."

* * *

**THE JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT**

The Sith felt a surge of adrenaline course through his veins. Part of it stemmed from the intensity of this battle, and part of it emerged from a response to the power she exuded. He had not met a warrior of this caliber for too long a while. His former Master perhaps, and Lord Revan, of course...but they were simply great wielders of the Force. Without it, they would be reduced to dust, mere specks in the sands of time. But if he survived this battle, he would make sure that no one would forget her. He owed her that much.

He could not stand to look into her eyes; instead he tried to anticipate her movements, succeeding only on a few occasions. He moved backwards, out of the arena – perfectly aware of his own intentions. To grant himself more time, he reached out with his free hand and wrenched a stone statue free from its foundations. Within seconds, it came crashing down in front of his opponent. He knew that it would not stop her, and he watched in awed fascination as her lightsaber cleaved it angrily in two. But the statue was large enough of an obstacle to give him some ground.

As he ran, he could not contain his excitement. She was not a Jedi any longer. Nor an exile. Nor human, it seemed. As she gained ground on him, he was smart enough to realize that she was someone who could not be turned. At least, not conventionally. There was raw power in her, undiluted and pure. Before she raised her blade to meet his again, he wondered if this was what the Sith strove to reach. He told himself, no, such rage was uncontrollable, and would ultimately prove to be a threat to the Sith in time.

They moved into a darkened hallway, lit up only by their glowing blades. Her lightsaber came immensely close to his neck – he felt its burning heat, before he ducked neatly underneath it. Not one to waste time either, he lashed out at her legs, and watched as she somersaulted over him to land behind him.

"General Mataki," he grunted, "for someone who obviously can't feel the Force, you make do just fine without it."

She didn't respond.

She lunged at him, and he stepped aside just in time. Reciprocating her ferocity, he slashed at her violently, and was rewarded with a small grunt, alerting him to the fact that he had hurt her. Although his intent was to slow her down, he could not help but admire her as she renewed her attack. As thrust and parry continued, he felt her moving backwards. He suspected that the wound was a deep one, but at the rate at which their swords were moving, he could not tell for certain. A tad disappointed, he moved forwards to meet her attacks as she moved backwards to evade his.

He was unaware of the fact that for all intents and purposes, she had wanted this to be so.

* * *

"Javin!" yelled James, as movement across the room reached a fevered pitch. He ran through the crowd, unable to make out friend from foe. In the minutes after Mataki's challenge had been accepted, the Jedi broke loose, somehow able to combine the remains of their strength to organize an attack.

If organize could be the right word for it.

Most of the Jedi were unarmed, whilst the Sith were up to their necks in weapons. He swung his head around. "Javin!"

Nothing. Did he follow his sister out? Deciding that he did, James made his way towards the arena's exit. Seconds later, a Sith flung himself in James' path, wielding a vibrosword dangerously in his direction. He dodged the man's thrusts, knowing that without a weapon, that was the best deal he could make. He moved out of the way soon enough for the blade to only scrape his chin. James swiftly made use of the man's outstretched arm and bent it backwards, while kneeing him quickly in the stomach. Having knocked the wind out of him, James used the Force to fling him across the floor. Ensuring that the Sith would not get up soon enough to launch a second attack, he watched him for a spilt second before fleeing the arena.

Running down the darkened hallway, he realized the stupidity of his move should he find himself flailing about in the dark with an unseen attacker. _Nothing for it mate_, he told himself, _just keep moving_.

* * *

Javin raced towards the elevators, checking his back for any pursuers. For the time being, he had managed to evade pursuit. Back in the arena, he had watched in what was then some morbid kind of detachment as Mataki unleashed herself on her enemy. He tried to justify her transformation – knowing full well that it would only be a matter of time before she would slaughter her opponent. Whatever fuel she ran on – it seemed inexhaustible.

But that was the point. It wasn't _her_, Elori, who fighting now. It was something else. And even if she won, it wouldn't matter, because she would die.

Which was why he had to find her before she could succeed. Fear rang clear-sounding bells across his head. And what plan did he have then, once he found her? Fight against them both? Or allow for the Sith to win?

_No_, he told himself. _Just bring her back_.

He neared the elevator and slammed his hand on the button. He panted heavily, trying to regain his breath. In the silence that followed, he realized that he was not alone. He quickly switched on his lightsaber and turned around to face this new threat. A few yards from him, two Sith raced towards him, cloaks billowing from behind them. His breathing came out faster now, instead of slowing down. He spun around, slamming his palm repeatedly on the elevator button, willing it to come down faster. He looked about him in panic. He did not know where the other corridors led. It would only be a matter of time before they found him, and even then he knew he was certainly not skilled enough to take on two Sith.

"Come on, damn it!" he yelled, and then almost magically, the doors opened behind him. He flung himself in with relief. As he reached out to shut the doors, he felt a cold grip on his throat. Moment by moment, the hold intensified and he found himself reaching instinctively to pry away invisible fingers. His eyes moved slowly towards the two Sith, one whose hand was stretched out in his direction.

Sluggishly, Javin thought, _what new trick is this?_ His peripheral vision began to morph into indistinct shades of grey. He fell to his knees, the clink of his lightsaber barely audible to him. His eyes remained focused on his attackers, drawing closer to him by the second. _Decide something…now_, he told himself.

_Decide. Now_.

He summoned the remnants of his energy, and with a concerted effort of every muscle in his body; he threw himself towards the numbered panel in the elevator. Ignoring the grip around his throat and unable to make out any legible writing before him, he slammed his hands into every button on the panel. He heard a ringing in his ears, and watched in a form of detachment as the doors slid shut. The tightening in this throat was gone, and he gasped for air like a newborn.

He struggled to get up, but sank back coughing to the floor.

* * *

He found himself within a large hall, fitted with elaborately carved domed ceilings. Tinted glass allowed for beautifully coloured moonlight to streak through to the marble floors beneath them. The Sith took in his new surroundings, noting structures and equipment that could be used to his advantage. He looked into the eyes of his opponent, curious as to whether she was doing the same. But he couldn't tell. Her pupils – in the moonlight, it was difficult to discern their colour – were fixated on every movement of his body. He could, however, clearly see the wound he had given her. It seemed deep – the blood had spread, making its way across her sleeve – but she moved about without acknowledging it.

Summoning the Force to his side, he leapt above her without warning, landing in the center of the great hall. Taking this unforeseeable move in her stride, she turned slowly, and walked towards him, wiping the sweat away from her eyes.

The Sith growled in his throat. Of all the great opponents he had studied, why had he not devoted enough time to her? He knew what he needed to hear about Kavar, the famed Jedi Guardian, and even Atris, the historian... No matter now, he told himself reassuringly, there was still one card he could hold above her hand, and even if the story wasn't true, he would have not lost much.

He set his legs apart, bracing himself for the onslaught.

* * *

**CRUISER TYRUS**

He slung his pack onto his left shoulder, Yustan following quietly beside him. Out of the corner of his mouth, he spoke to her. "Don't look like you're trying to cover your face. Lift your chin up higher. These guys – they're pretty good. Busy as bees they may be, but they always have time to spot a wank."

"A wank?"

"Never mind. Just don't look down at your feet so much."

She lifted her face accordingly, not quite liking what she saw ahead of her. "Security door – manned. How do you propose to get by this one?"

"Just watch. Stay behind me." He moved a step forward, and added as an afterthought, "Oh, and if things should, hypothetically, go a little awry, make for the ship. I'll be right behind you."

"Right behind me, my foot." she hissed. "You think I'm going to let you go out in a blaze of glory on your own? I want a share of history too, y'know."

He winked at her and approached the sentries on duty. He decided that a direct approach would be best. "I need to get into cell block 22A."

"Delivering or interrogation of a prisoner?" stated one of the sentries mechanically, eyes fixed on his console.

"Interrogation. My specialty." he deadpanned.

The sentry missed the irony. "Rank and reference number."

"I don't have one."

Sentry number one saw something fit enough to catch his attention, and looked up from his screen. "Rank and reference number," he repeated, this time, slowly and with more emphasis.

"Listen kid, I don't have much time for chit chat, so why don't you save us some time and run my face through the databank. If it doesn't come up," he added a confident chuckle for effect, "we'll be on our way."

Sentry number two narrowed his eyes, pondered something for a minute, and then gave the go ahead to his counterpart.

Atton tapped his foot casually as the seconds went by. Finally, one of the sentries spoke up. "You're cleared to go, but –"

"– but what?" shot out Atton, with a tone of arrogance. "If I'm not mistaken, the readout should tell you what class you're dealing with. Just stop making an ass out yourself and let us through."

He leapt to his feet and to action. The steel doors parted, allowing for Yustan and Atton to walk through.

* * *

"As long as I live, I'll never know how you do it." Yustan heaved a sigh of relief. "Do you ever run short of ideas?"

"Does a Bantha have wings?"

She chuckled and then grew serious. "Okay. According to the map back there, we have to make two more lefts followed by a right after the second corridor. The ducts run right below those cells."

"You still good with this plan?" asked Atton.

"As opposed to blasting our way to the generator room? Yes."

"Because there's one thing I might have forgotten to mention." he sounded a little nervous.

Yustan stopped dead in her tracks, saw the standard security camera, minded herself and spoke normally. "And what would that be?"

"Those ducts – they're heating vents."

"_So?_ So what?"

"So, a lot of these ducts are steam powered."

She maintained her cool. "So you're saying there's a chance we can arrive steam-cooked out of the other end."

"And there's one more tidbit – here, hold this," he handed her his pack.

"That little profile that popped up on their screens back there? It's about a good week old. I'd say that in about fifteen minutes from now, it's going to be updated by a Sith warrant for my arrest. You can see now why I was in such a big rush. Getting our skin singed off by steam is probably the last thing we should be worrying about."

She quickened her pace, saying nothing. She searched purposefully for a duct that was hidden tactfully from view of a security camera. She threw a primitive wielding torch at Atton. "Get to work. If we get out of this in one piece – then, I'll kill you."

* * *

They slid down the large chute, with their feet stuck out in front of them. Within seconds, they touched flat metallic grating. Atton went forward first, gesturing for Yustan to follow quickly behind him. The duct was large – big enough to fit about ten men along its width. Pipes ran overhead, and an eerie red glow was all the light they would get in its stark corridors. As the pair jogged forward, Yustan saw their large shadows slip alongside them. Every five minutes or so, she would hear a faint beeping. The third time the noise reached her ears, she broke the silence with her concern.

"I brought a timer. If I remember correctly, most standard heating ducts – if they're steam powered – vent about every twenty minutes or so. Of course, this is kind of rough, you have to take the size of the ship into account." answered Atton.

"Which means that they could vent at shorter intervals!" exclaimed Yustan.

Atton grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. "We gotta keep moving faster, sister."

A few minutes later, Yustan felt the grating beneath her tremble slightly. "Atton..." she whispered.

"I hear it, I hear it! Run!"

Yustan glanced back, a hissing sound nearing her ears. In the gloomy red light, she saw a cloud of vapour shoot out from underneath the flooring. A second later, a similar event proceeded in front of the first. Closer to them both. She found herself grabbed violently by Atton again, as he yanked her forward. Her feet were not moving at the same pace as his, and she stumbled before being pulled up alongside him. She ran faster now, hearing his breath beside hers, wondering when she would feel her legs burn. The pipes moved past her in a blur, and she was utterly unaware as to where they were now.

Suddenly, Atton threw himself bodily against her, and the pair stumbled into a niche in the wall. She didn't have the time to protest – her face and mouth were muffled by his thick leather jacket, and she shut her eyes tightly waiting for the pain to come. Two minutes ticked by before Atton stepped away from her.

"You okay?" he asked, concerned.

She nodded. Her hair was pasted to her face with sweat and she could still get the scent of leather wafting through her nose. And something else as well. It took her a second to realize it.

"Oh..." she moved forward, and turned Atton around with her hands. The back of his jacket was a black, sticky mess. His arms, however, which the jacket did not extend to, were burning an angry crimson. She began to pull his jacket off him quickly, and met with a string of protests.

"Easy!" he yelped. "Just be a little gentler, would you?! I swear it's my arm you're tearing off there..." He continued to grimace.

She worked quickly and efficiently. The leather was probably in the process of still melting, and it could adhere to his skin if she didn't work fast enough. On completing her task, she flung the jacket to a corner and set her jaw angrily. He had stopped complaining. Without thinking, she grabbed the back of his neck and drew him to her. She kissed him passionately, and this, he didn't anticipate. Within moments, he managed to recover himself and put both his burnt arms around her without holding back.

Finally she pulled away, and realizing what she had just done, she rested her forehead against his shoulder – unable to look him in the eyes.

"I thought you wan –" he began.

"Atton," she said sternly, "For once in your life, keep your damned mouth shut." But she was smiling, and she stroked the side of his face gently. "You big idiot,"

"At your service," he nodded, grinning.

She sighed, her thoughts back on what had to be done. "Let's keep going before the next geysers hit, eh?"

* * *

"Do your arms hurt much? she asked, as they reached what appeared to be an exit.

"Had worse." he said. She thought this was an attempt at masculine evasiveness, but then realized that he was serious. Seeing that she had recognized this, he gave her a grim smile. "More secrets to unravel."

"If you're ever ready to talk, I'll be ready to listen." she said, with equal seriousness.

As he pried open the door using various gadgetry, he put up one foot against the door, and yanked it with both hands. "Sounds too commercial." he grunted. "Try that line with a little more romance glazed over it. Gimme a hand here, eh?"

She stood next to him and pulled hard. "You're never one to be open, huh?"

The door gave way eventually, and the pair was flung backwards as it did. Atton got to his feet first, helping her up. "Never say never, sweetheart." He dusted his hands on his trousers. "Well. We're here. Generator central. You ready?"

Yustan looked at the metal staircase that led upwards. Her green eyes faltered, anxiety flashing through. Atton noticed, and grasped her hand. "Stick with me. Nothing's going to happen to us without our consent."

Yustan gave a wan smile and started climbing.

* * *

**THE JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT**

He stepped along the walkway quietly, looking above him from time to time. He held the railing gingerly with one hand, ordering himself to not look down. Growing up amongst trees – he would have thought that a fear of heights was the least of his concerns. Obviously not. He glanced down involuntarily and jerked his head upwards, gasping. _Bloody hell_, he thought to himself. _That's a good hundred feet of air between myself and solid stone_.

_Keep going_, he urged himself.

He walked a few yards forward and saw them, finally. He watched in dread as green streaks of light faced red, humming furiously. Every other minute, it seemed as if one would be forced over the walkway and plummet to the bottom, but something bigger than them both was intent on seeing this entire thing through to the end. This gave Javin fresh hope, and disregarding his newfound fears, he ran to the end of his walkway, determined to bring this thing to a close and his sister back to him.

* * *

He swung his red blade in a wide arc, realizing an instant later that he had missed again, as it cut cleanly through the air.

"General," he hissed. "It is General, isn't it? Or have you given yourself up to a complete animal?"

She snarled at him and changed her pattern of attack. Instead of the standard method of swiveling the blade and using her body to balance her movements, she gripped the hilt of her lightsaber at a different angle: one that symbolized a need to finish this, to satiate her bloodlust before the next surge overtook her. Her strokes resembled that of an attacker that stabbed through the air at his victim with nothing save for a small knife, but the weapon was far larger, and it was wielded as a sting of a much bigger creature, whose only purpose in life was to survive at the cost of others.

The Sith immediately recognized this technique, and for the first time, began to fear for his life. It was old, far older than himself, and was only taught to the most experienced. The wielder gave no concern for any defensive movements, he had to be sure enough of himself to be able to concentrate solely on his attack. As a result, the assault had to be quick. And it demanded an immense effort on the part of its user.

He quickly responded by using only resistive techniques. He waited, somewhat fearfully, to throw her backwards, but it seemed that she gave no room to allow for that maneuver, heightening her assault to a pace he could barely keep up with.

Sweat poured down the slope of his nose faster now. He felt something cold stir within him, acknowledging that the end could not be much further.

And then something called out behind her.

"Elori!"

The Sith took this advantage and moved backwards several steps to recover himself. In slow motion, he watched as she turned to face this new distraction, and immediately launched hot streaks of lightning in her direction. Uncannily, she ducked, the lightning hitting whoever it was behind her.

* * *

Javin fell backwards heavily, painful spurts of pain coalescing into one in various regions of his body. After they had subsided, he propped himself up, and through groggy eyes, he saw Mataki walking towards him.

"Elori," he muttered in relief, as he gripped the side of the railing to raise himself up.

But she didn't answer. Instead, she came towards slowly, taking her time. When his eyes focused on her face, he studied it fervently for some hint of recognition. But there was nothing.

"Elori..." he said again, his voice faltering.

"You have caused this." she spoke.

He shook his head, no, unable to speak. He raised his lightsaber in an effort to defend himself, and received a savage kick to his stomach. Javin skidded backwards across the smooth stone, and slid neatly off it. He grabbed the railing just in time with one hand, his other still clutching his lightsaber. He remained hanging from the platform, realizing that with each passing second, his grip of his fingers weakened. He looked up, and soon, the face of what belonged to his sister came into view.

"You will not die like this." she said.

She reached out and grabbed him by the scruff of his collar, pulling him upwards. As she did so, he felt each breath he took in burn badly inside of him. He placed shaking legs on the walkway, and watched in stunned silence as she hooked her lightsaber to her belt. She moved towards him and spoke.

"You will die like this."

In the next instant, she turned a fraction to one side, and then let loose with a jarring impact to his face delivered by the sharp of her elbow. He staggered backwards, uncomprehending. The blood flowed freely down his mouth, around the curve of his chin and onto the floor. He stared at her, blinking.

She curled her upper lip into a snarl, and reached out for another shot.

Instinctively, he grabbed her arm, preventing her from hitting home. "Stop," he pleaded. "It's me! Don't you know who it is? It's Javin!"

"Javin? My brother Javin?" she hissed. "What do I care?"

Their arms trembled, straining against each other.

"I love you! You're my blood!" he cried.

"My blood's all dried up, don't you know? I used it to pay for all your lives. Friend...enemy, brother, sister...mother, father – it makes no difference now."

"It does make a difference!" he shouted, as something wet stung his eyes.

She watched the tears run down his cheeks and scoffed. "For pity's sake...let's end this,"

She moved her arm that was in her grip forward a little, and twisted it so that she had a hold on his. She dug her nails into his skin and wrenched it into an awkward angle until he yelled out in pain.

"I thought you had the Force inside of you," she muttered. "Why don't you use it?"

He mumbled something inaudible through his cries.

"What?" she demanded.

"Because I can't kill you...can't kill you. Sister,"

Unaware that she had already broken one bone, her grip intensified as she watched the boy's eyes roll back into his head and see his body awkwardly slump to the floor.

She felt something surge through her body. Waves. And the arms of a strong swimmer, pulling her up to the surface. She broke into clear skies, gasping for air.

Before she knew it, she was beside him, her body covering his, crying out in terror. She turned him upwards and held his face in her hands, her tears dripping downwards, mingling with his own. Her words made no sense anymore, nothing did. They were mindless repetitions, insane incantations made to undo what she had just done.

She was unaware when the body of man knelt beside her, and was only made conscious of his presence when he attempted to pull Javin away from her.

She screamed at him, and wrenched Javin back towards her.

"Elori. Listen to me, kid, you have to let me take a look at him. You gotta let me look at him. I'm here to help him, I promise."

She sat back finally, listlessly, and watched as this man – she remembered his name now, James – pass a gentle hand over Javin's brow.

"We need to get him out." he spoke finally.

"Tell me what I did." she said.

"Elori, just do –"

"Tell me what I did to him!" she ordered.

"I...He's got a fractured rib. It's piercing his lungs."

She shut her eyes, cringing in pain.

"Here," James said, realizing that now was not the time to dawdle. "You carry him. I'll take the lead."

They lifted Javin off the ground, and gently positioned him into Mataki's arms. James moved backwards slowly, to ensure that she was capable of this new task. When he was certain, he turned around just in time to duck beneath a gleaming red blade.

"Is the General back?" he hissed.

James moved backwards slowly, his arms stretched out protectively on either side of him. He ignited his lightsaber.

"I don't want to fight you." chortled the man, his green eyes flashing. "I want to fight _her_. After all, she _did_ ask me. But this time – a fair fight."

"Or else?" asked James suspiciously.

"Please don't make me state the obvious. I hate being redundant."

"James," spoke Mataki softly from behind.

James turned to face her. He knew that given what she had endured, her lack of the Force and the return to who she was...she would face this man with all wounds exposed. No more shielding. She was not so powerful anymore. And her strength was no longer inexhaustible.

"It's the only way." She placed Javin gingerly in his arms. "It's the only way." She repeated to herself as she moved forward, tired, to face her opponent.


	21. Chapter 21

Atton took his time in scrutinizing his environment. The power pylons seemed to be located deeper towards the interior of the large room. Each heavily insulated cluster of wires ran through the floors of the ship, and he could see the faint blue glow of the electric fields generated by them in the distance. There were several pylons; one across from the other. Throwing something as crude as a frag or plasma grenade would go no further than shutting one power line down. And he had no time, not to mention grenades, to be prancing across the room, showering detonators about like they were flower petals.

And his gut told him that getting by the guards in this place was akin to charging through a multitude of Rancors protecting their young. He counted about ten guards in his line of sight. All were heavily armed; energy shields, pulse blasters, thick armour. He also did not doubt that they carried at least one plasma grenade on their person.

But there had to be a vulnerability. Every perimeter, every security unit, had its weakness. The most efficient system was defined by the number of weaknesses it possessed, and not by the technology that kept outsiders away. The lower these security fractures, the better the system.

Atton frowned, a result of accelerating his thoughts. If the Sith had done all they could in terms of protecting their power supply with sheer numbers, what other methods could they utilize? Was each power cell controlled by a separate unit from afar? No, that would be too risky. Perhaps they were governed similarly to tractor beams then – with one control unit for the whole battalion.

In the distance, he saw one guard hold his wrist up to his mouth. Seconds later, the guard walked past the power pylons, and away from Atton's line of sight. Without turning around, he reached his arm into his bag, and fished out a small pair of field glasses. He quickly brought it up to his eyes, and adjusted its focus.

"Atton," whispered Yustan, who had been standing silently for too long a time. "Let's get a move on."

Still looking through the glasses, "Why? Don't you like our hideout?"

Yustan glanced around her nervously. "Yeah," she muttered. "Real swell. Now let's get moving."

"Plan?"

"I'll distract 'em."

"Sounds good. You better be good with that lightsaber of yours."

"I'm wonderful." Yustan unclipped her lightsaber from her belt, and gripped it firmly with her hand. "How much time do you need?"

Atton shoved his field glasses back into his bag, and strapped it firmly across his back. "You'll know when I'm done," and winked at her.

"You know the chances of us getting out of here in tiny little pieces are astronomical, don't you?" she smiled sourly, but unable to mask her concerns.

"Even the worst hand in Pazaak is better than no hand at all. You'll be surprised how many times I've managed to turn the tables."

"Well, if you have any aces up your sleeve – please don't hold back." She took a deep breath and slipped off before he could say anything.

Atton watched quietly as she ducked behind a short wall, and made her way stealthily towards the armed guards. He glanced at his chronometer, and back in the direction of Yustan. He heard a commotion, and saw other guards across the room run towards the source. Thirty seconds. Huh. She was quick.

Atton ran softly across the room, a blaster hidden snugly underneath his jacket.

* * *

He approached the area where the guard had walked into earlier, and knew for certain that it contained the equipment that governed the power generators. Four visible guards stood before a large pair of steel doors. He quickly ducked behind a pillar, but as luck would have it, the movement had alerted them, and before long, laser fire singed the air around him.

Atton didn't have much time to think. He rolled his eyes upwards, muttered _what the hell_, and charged forward, shooting. He let out a barrage of fire, hoping that the guards would be fooled into thinking he was a rotten shot. All the while, he searched for security cameras in his line of sight, and took each one out. All the other shots in between flew in random directions, and due purely to chance, hit some circuitry that shorted out. The guard nearest to the wiring let out a scream as a hot shower of bolts hit him, and seconds later, he sunk to the floor.

Atton grinned before diving for cover.

He rolled behind several pieces of equipment, and stopped. The laser fire continued, in addition to a new sound. The sound of something small making its way across the floor...metal scraping against metal. A sinking feeling in his chest.

"Oh, I have a bad feeling about this," he mumbled, and leapt away from the sound immediately. Two seconds later, there was a bright light and a faint smell of roasted nuts. Poison gas, he realized. Either they held little regard for their own life, or wanted to make doubly sure Atton was snuffed out for good. _Damn, these guys take their work seriously, don't they?_

Holding his breath, Atton moved away slowly, away from the guards' line of sight. Getting past them and into that room would take a miracle.

Suddenly, a cacophony of noise erupted across the room. Amidst the sharp sound of repetitively wailing klaxons, a voice spoke.

"_All systems on alert. All systems on alert. Intruders in sections two-oh-four to two-twenty. Systematic lockdown in sections two-oh-four to two-twenty. Description of intruders: both human, male and female. All systems on alert. This is not a test._"

Leaving no time for cautious thought, he seized the moment and leapt out from his refuge and fired at the remaining three guards. The alarm had taken had taken them by surprise, and so did the emergence of Atton from a different location. Atton wounded two of the guards sufficiently to incapacitate them, but a shot from his opponent to his hand caused him to drop his blaster. He immediately fell to the floor, and awkwardly handled the guard's legs, bringing him flailing to the ground with him. After a tense grapple, Atton managed to stun the guard with his own rifle butt.

Atton rose up quickly, pulling the dazed guard to his feet. He pointed the guard's weapon at his own head, and shoved him towards the door.

"Open it." ordered Atton.

"Screw you." replied the guard, apparently lucid enough to insult.

"I ain't joking here. But hey, it's a free world." The next instant, Atton lowered his weapon from the guard's head to his foot and fired. The man cried out in pain, and instinctively raised his injured foot into his hands. Atton, his face bland, spoke. "Wrong choice."

He pointed to the guard's other foot.

"Okay!" relented the man.

The guard limped over to the side of the doorway, and punched in a sequence of characters. Atton paid close attention to this, and once the doors parted, he turned to the guard. He raised the rifle to the man's masked face.

"No..." spoke the guard softly, anticipating Atton's next move.

"It's what you would have done." justified Atton, his face still emotionless.

"_Please,_"

Atton set his jaw, and tightened his grip around the trigger.

"I haven't...please don't," continued the injured guard.

Atton moved forward swiftly behind the man, and delivered a heavy blow to the back of his neck. He gazed down at the man, who – against his better judgment – was only unconscious.

"The things we do for women." he scoffed to himself.

* * *

His head thumping with pain and adrenaline, Atton walked into the room and was taken aback with its small size. He moved cautiously around the room, and to its center. He stared at the cylindrical tower that housed multiple arrays of wiring, trying to figure out its circuitry. He placed a tentative hand on a lever, above which was stenciled the word _caution_, and paused.

Something hot and red flew swiftly before him, before bouncing off the lever, leaving its surface scorched.

Atton jerked his head upwards in the direction of the shot, and saw Yustan walk in, holding her blaster up.

"Make a move already." she said, glowering under a sweaty brow. "I didn't just man-handled a dozen troopers to have you piddling over which button looks the prettiest."

She strode forward purposefully, and threw a grenade at the small control pillar.

"Is that what I think it is?" spoke Atton, his eyes wide.

Yustan grabbed his forearm, and yanked him out of the room. They broke into a run, and she turned to him, smiling. "Of course it's a thermal detonator, Atton. I learn from the best."

* * *

The blast was so forceful that it knocked the pair off their feet and threw them forward hard onto their faces. Moments later, Yustan glanced around her and saw the lights in the room flicker ominously, before coming on again.

"They must've switched to an auxiliary generator," Yustan said.

They both got to their feet and surveyed their environment nervously. "Means that only vital sections of this ship will be covered," spoke Atton.

"Think that includes the security lockdown?" asked Yustan hopefully.

Atton held up crossed fingers, and gestured for Yustan to follow him. The pair moved in the direction in which they came, and not a moment too soon. The noise of sturdy boots clanking against metal could be heard from the main entrance.

Yustan and Atton flew down the stairs and into the ventilating ducts.

* * *

**THE JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT**

Her head slammed into something hard, and she felt every bone in her body rattle from the impact. Despite the urge to give into the blackness that tugged at her consciousness, she opened her eyes and saw the Sith walk towards her with the faintest of smiles on his lips. Mataki struggled to rise, and succeeded in raising herself partway before her knees buckled and she fell back to the ground.

She watched him warily, and the minute he raised his hands in her direction, she rolled to one side. A hot blast of lightning struck the place she was only minutes before. Mataki swallowed. She knew full well that her situation was dire, and struggled hard to prepare herself for the very real possibility that she might die. She had felt it before – several times – but it would something she could never become accustomed to. Her emotions began to unravel in layers, with the euphoria of invulnerability and hope being stripped off first. Blow after blow after blow had seen to this. Then off came logic and sanity, both, who – try as they might – could not find a winning strategy out of this predicament.

Finally, she was left with the very tangible taste of fear in her mouth, chest and stomach. It was as if her whole body was undertaking a weighty load, putting all functions on hold for the sake of survival.

She had not yet, however, reached the point of surrender, and it was that last feeling that filled her with the most dread. The need for an end and oblivion. Slowly, so slowly, she felt her own thoughts take her by the hand and lead her to that precipice...and allowed for them to speak.

_It's what we wanted all along, really. Come now, you didn't seriously believe that you could reach closure any other way, did you? Listen to me...I'm you. For once in your life, Elori, listen to yourself. Atonement and redemption are but extravagant furnishings for a very humble abode. An abode that is so small and sparse that it simply cannot spare any room for forgiveness. Yes, I am narcissism. And yes, I am self-pity. But I am also your soul who has remained alive merely for the entertainment of the gods. A roll of the die, and we become a Jedi. Another roll – a new war is born, and with it, the beginning of our end. If the gods seek to prolong what they call theatre, then change the script...let us enter a paradise that we only know as oblivion_.

Underneath her closed lids, her eyes burned. She could feel the beating of her heart – erratic now – as the ticking of a clock winding down. She felt the salty taste of tears wet her dry mouth, as her thoughts drifted to Javin, James, Yustan, Atton, Hix, Bao-Dur, Atris...Yura. Oh how disappointed they will be.

_You won't be around to answer anyone_.

She opened her eyes, and rose to her feet, one leg at a time. She could have given way to sleep as she was before, positioned on the ground and undignified, but it wasn't the way. She couldn't die like that.

The Sith stood but a few feet away from her, and had witnessed the struggle with the greatest curiousity.

He licked his lips. "Who would have thought that you would choose death as an alternative."

She shook her head, no. "I haven't _chosen _death, Sith. Sometimes, there are no alternatives."

"There are always choices, even in the darkest of places. You have to peer in closely to see them."

"Forgive me, but my eyes are tired."

The Sith looked away from her and into the distance. He didn't seem to be studying anything visually, and stood like this for several seconds. "Perhaps you know less of yourself than you think you do. Perhaps it takes the right person, at precisely the right time to make you see."

Mataki blinked a few times, trying to gain focus. Then, as swift as lightning, the Sith leapt through the air at her, bringing down his blade, framed by his face, towards her. She stared at the enfolding scenario from afar as if gazing at a piece of art, in which the artist had captured his character's emotions seconds before his death. The doomed man's face was pallid but inexpressive, tense but not afraid. But what she did not recognize was that there remained something, small and insignificant – a resilience perhaps – that shone through.

It manifested itself in her next move.

Before she could think, both her hands brought up her own saber, clashing with the red blade, shoving it and its owner violently to one side. The Sith hit the ground chuckling to himself.

"There. You see?" he laughed, rubbing his shoulder.

Her jaw dropped as she stared at him.

"You know what that's called, don't you?" he asked.

No, she didn't.

"You're not who you think you are, Elori. Allow me to show you."

Once again, he came forward, brandishing his lightsaber, and once again, she parried his assaults. He put more effort into his techniques and she adjusted accordingly so as to give no more ground. Though her moves were only defensive ones, the Sith knew it was only a matter of time before she gained confidence and chose more offensive maneuverings. He let out a blow that only shook her balance, and leapt backwards, to provide more distance between them.

"Are you satisfied, General?" he panted, breaking into a knowing laugh.

"What are you talking about!" she shouted.

"Even though your logic chooses death, even if the circumstances demand it, you cannot give in to either! That is the nature of your being, the primal sense of survival. It flows through you so strongly that even when the Force was dead to you, it remained. You are unable to defeat your true self."

She scowled. "If this is a bloody Sith recruiting drive..."

"Don't be stupid, woman!" he argued. "You are finding yourself, not who you used to be, but who you are becoming! You had to weaken, face the likelihood of surrender, and finally death to understand. An exile. That is exactly what you are. This will of yours is not accepting defeat, and it will hold onto anything to exist. Snatching it out of nothing..."

Mataki stared at him, trying frantically to mould his words into a shape she could fathom.

"I can feel the Force in you, Exile. I can feel it returning. Can't you?"

She held her breath, trying to listen to her body, her mind.

"But even when there was no Force, you remained, in your stubbornness. How is this so, Exile? What paths did you tread to reach here?"

"I feel no power." she said softly, cautiously.

"But _I_ can feel it now..." he closed his eyes. "It is neither dark nor light, but it can be made to sway. Not for you though. You hold too much of an unconscious hold over it. Oh...but it can be manifested and harvested in the future."

Then suddenly, almost rudely, his thoughts became clear to her. Through this returning feeling, she saw his eyes, searching desperately through her mind. Quickly, she attempted to block him. But he was probing, peering, greedily for something. He saw James, and he saw his connection with her. Inside, he also saw the swamps in Dagobah, and after skirting through this memory, he saw Javin. He witnessed the brawl they had gotten into, and finally her long conversion with Kepp, Javin's uncle.

In the next instant, she saw an infant wailing in the arms of a man. She saw the man turn around, and saw a clearing in which lay several bodies. But then, a completely different location. Equipment, sterile, pristine. Many of them, no wait, thousands. An assembly line? Have I been to such a factory?

And then it struck her. _These are not my memories_.

Immediately, his mind left her own, and he opened his eyes and smiled.

"If they are not your memories, Exile, then whose are they?" asked the Sith.

"Yours."

"Partially true. I share them with your parents."

She felt a sudden pang.

"Would you like me to show you?" he asked.

"I think I've had enough show and tell for one day," she quipped, despite her anxiety.

He stepped forward, and then paused. Of the two, and at that given moment, it was obvious that with some effort, he might be able to put an end to her life. But that wasn't his goal. At least, not yet.

"We can exchange information, Exile. Quid pro quo."

"You're full of lies. You're so full of lies..." she repeated, a little less convincingly.

"Memories don't lie."

Her breathing quickened, and she felt a panic slither into both thought and voice. Everything that had taken place in the past few hours unraveled and became disjointed in her mind. These new sensations, and these bizarre revelations – if they even had truth to it – grabbed a hold of her, and she had trouble placing each event chronologically…trouble even separating the voices she heard now from those which spoke to her before.

Mataki felt her legs moving herself forward, and before she knew it, she had raised her blade against the Sith once more.

"Elori," he grunted, "believe me...I would never extend this courtesy to anyone else. I hold a large portion of your past within me. And you and Javin are only the tip of the iceberg. If I told you what the Jedi had done to you both –"

"It doesn't matter if they're lies!" she crouched and delivered a shot to his legs. She missed.

Streams of lightning pulsed against her saber, throwing her backwards. The Sith restrained himself and began to speak again.

"I will speak no such lies to someone such as you! You, from whom we have so much to learn from! Even the teachings of Exar Kun, Naga Sadow...even they did not record such paths in the Sith holocrons!"

"Stop it!" she shouted as she lashed out at him, and he rewarded her with a grazing blow to her shoulder blade.

"I need to know, Elori. Your knowledge is not your own – especially if it concerns survival. If you do not understand yourself yet, then let me help you, as I helped you before. The Jedi refused to acknowledge the person you've become – but I can, and will. And you do not have to join the Sith, Elori. You do not have to become one of us. All this and more can I bestow upon you if you only let me help you!

Did the Jedi tell you what they had done? Did they tell you what they had done to your parents, and to countless other individuals for the sake of their Order?"

Mataki stiffened, as if tensing her muscles would grant her immunity from his words.

Encouraged by the fact that she no longer argued with him, he summoned the Force and used it to break through once again into her mind, but instead of taking, he allowed her to sift through his own memories. The Sith held nothing back, assailing her violently with a flood of images, and took great pleasure in the fact that she had actually chosen to study them.

* * *

"_You must bring them back; they cannot be allowed to roam free." _

"_I cannot. And I will not." spoke the man, his green eyes blazing at his elder._

"_Padawan, you have been made privy to information that would normally not concern you – if I had my way. But such are the circumstances."_

_The younger man scowled as obvious distress came over his face. "You people concocted this project, and what surprises me is that with its grandiose scale and nature you never took into account that this might ensue?" And as an afterthought, he added. "And don't call me Padawan. I am not your pupil anymore just as you are not my master."_

_The man's former mentor closed his eyes, apparently saddened. "Sometimes most well-laid plans can go to waste. But all is not lost, Pietro. There is –"_

"_They are not cattle! They cannot be rounded up and executed simply for fleeing a fate that was forcefully bestowed upon them!" _

"_Pietro." his voice lost its patience and became authoritative. "If news of this facility leaks out, more than just the lives of these escapees is at stake –"_

"_Yes, your **honour** is. And the **honour **of the Jedi Council too. Why would I want to tarnish the reputation of an institution that is already black with decay?"_

"_Silence!" he shouted._

"_No, you listen to me!" _

"_You will do as I say or risk being expelled from this place!"_

"_Is something the matter?" came a calm voice from behind the pair. _

_Without having to turn, the older man let out a deep sigh. "Master Renata. I am so sorry that you had to intervene."_

"_Pietro?" The woman turned to the young man, her eyes wide with concern. _

_Still glaring fiercely at his old master, he spoke. "I regret, Master Renata, to tell you that I can no longer take orders from the Jedi Council."_

"_Has this something to do with our runaways?" she asked. And then she smiled gently. "If so, do not worry, Pietro, only myself, Master Geyaro and your own master know of this affair. Of course there were others before us who began this project, but they died to maintain its secrecy. None of our knowledge will leave these chambers."_

"_It is not the secrecy of this project that concerns me." said Pietro stiffly._

"_Pietro. Do not let your feelings impede the direction of the Order. Perhaps you cannot see it now, but what we are doing here is ensuring our survival. Sometimes we have to keep knowledge contained for the better good – even amongst those we trust."_

"_With all due respect, Master Renata, I cannot do this. This is not who I am." Pietro hung his head._

"_Those who have escaped are a threat to themselves and to whoever they should meet. Without our control, they could play pivotal roles in tipping the scales of life and death. Would you rather have that on your conscience?" added the older man._

_Pietro didn't respond. _

_Master Renata paused to consider something, and then spoke. "They have reproduced, Pietro." And then, on seeing a different worry flash across his eyes, she continued. "They carry with them two offspring. Should any member of this party fall into the wrong hands...consider the consequences."_

"_You speak of them as if they were insects," hissed Pietro, "...nothing in your eyes!"_

"_I apologize. I have governed this from afar for too long and have become detached. I have never met many of our potentials, but I know for certain that they could prove to be exceptional human beings and a credit to our Order." said Master Renata softly. "I would not wish them a harmful fate. **Please.** Bring them back."_

_He remained silent for a long while._

"_Pietro?" _

_He raised his head dejectedly, but with defiance in his eyes. "I will bring them back. If nothing but for the sake of the children. And when I return I will have nothing to do with the both of you. Or the Jedi. You have failed me in such a way I never thought possible."_

* * *

The vision faded, and Mataki gasped for air...partly due to the clarity with which she could see such events, and partly due to the implications of what the Sith had shown her.

"I need to know..." she spoke, barely audible. "_More_,"

And this time, she welcomed the visions.

* * *

"_You know we cannot withstand the scale of this war – we lack the resources, not to mention the manpower to battle this new technology." spoke the Rodian, his antennae twitching in distress._

"_We should not view advancing technology as our foe, Geyaro." spoke a much younger Renata as she sat beside him. "The future – as was the past – is always in motion. The only thing constant in our world is change. If we cannot adapt to change, we die out with our predecessors who believed as we do. It is not in my best interest, nor yours, to build a home for the Jedi Order solely in history texts."_

_The Rodian's mottled green complexion turned slightly pale. "Indeed."_

"_We can use their technology to our advantage as well." she smiled._

"_Too little too late, and you know I speak the truth. How can we possibly come up with an entire fleet that consist of these new-fangled advancements? Our opponents have had time on their side. They will make us look like fools as we play catch-up." He sighed in frustration. "And instead of remaining at the Temple, I have been convinced to come along with you to Kamino on one of your whims."_

"_Oh, Geyaro...what I have to show you has been conceived from anything **but** a whim."_

_She was not smiling._

* * *

_The Rodian and the woman sat surrounded by beautiful white-décor, safe from the raging waves that lashed against the fortress on the ocean-enveloped planet. The Rodian, somewhat impatient, walked towards the thick window – a hybrid of plastic and glass, very durable – and placed his hand on it. _

"_Do you know how many Jedi have been dispatched to Alderaan?" he asked. "Four. And to Taris? None. We could distribute them equally amongst the planets...but what good would that do? What good is one Jedi against thousands of foes?"_

_Through the reflection in the mirror, he saw Renata smile._

"_I'm glad I was able to amuse you..." he said, sarcastically. _

"_No, no...Oh, old friend, if you only knew what I was about to show you... But I can't. You must see for yourself. It will dispel all of our worries!"_

_At that moment, the door to their room slid open and a young boy entered, followed by a polite Kaminoan behind him. He walked up to the two Jedi and smiled pleasantly._

_Geyaro stiffened, the hairs on the back of his hand rising. _

_The boy extended his hand. "My name is Vetan Oshaa, and it is lovely to make your acquaintance, Master Geyaro."_

_Renata grinned. "Meet your new Padawan, Geyaro."_

"_The Force...the Force is so strong in him, I can feel it from where I stand." Geyaro whispered. _

"_Vetan Oshaa is one of our most successful potentials." explained the Kaminoan, pleased._

_Geyaro turned to Renata, bewildered. _

"_The Kaminoans are wonderful scientists." spoke Renata. "They are such brilliant geneticists."_

"_You are too generous. We merely colour in what the artist has sketched, Master Jedi." smiled the Kaminoan. "Most scientists have to stand on the shoulders of giants to reach the heavens."_

"_Are you saying..." said Geyaro, assembling all of this rapidly, "the Sith holocrons...more than just teachings?"_

"_So much knowledge, my friend. So much. And we have resisted studying them for too long. Look what we have been able to accomplish in so short a time!" Renata gestured at the boy._

"_You have...constructed a Jedi..."_

"_Not a Jedi," corrected Renata. "A Force sensitive individual. And a strong one at that. For the first few years, they are receptive to conditioning, isn't that so, doctor Lai?"_

_The Kaminoan nodded. "And this one is now fully prepared to follow in the footsteps of some of the greatest of Jedi. The others –"_

"_I'm sorry, what?" shot out Geyaro. "There are more?"_

"_Yes." answered doctor Lai._

"_How many more?"_

_The Kaminoan looked to Renata for approval. Was this stranger allowed such detailed information? The woman nodded, yes._

"_Twenty-seven, Master Jedi. But you must understand, we have only been working for three years. And manipulation on this scale is so delicate a matter that we must proceed carefully. Every detail is critical to our success."_

"_My God..."_

"_We have already won our war, wouldn't you say, old friend?" said Renata._

* * *

Mataki stood stock still, breathing heavily. The visions had been taxing on both their minds, and she saw the Sith rest his back against a wall, exhausted.

"I need to see more." she asked once again. "Please."

"Elori," panted the Sith, "I would have thought you'd seen enough."

"How did my parents escape? Who was hunting them down?"

"It is time for you to reciprocate my kindness," he said, looking up from under heavy, tired brows.

"No. Not until you tell me."

"I have showed you so much!"

She moved a step closer towards him in frustration. "Showed me? What have you showed me? Pieces of an incomplete picture that have now disappeared! All this happened before my time, what trail can I follow?"

"That depends on where you believe the trail leads."

"Are they still alive – these clones?"

From behind them, and somewhere down on the streets of Coruscant, explosions could be heard. But nothing save for death itself could tear either party away from their conversation.

She shouted at him. "Are they still alive!"

"What did you see, General, on Malachor V that changed you so?"

She scowled, realizing that he was as sturdy in a verbal confrontation as he would be in a physical one. She could only take if she gave in return. "It was a cascade of events, Sith. Malachor V was its climax."

"You saw him didn't you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Yes, she did. Through her silence, he understood her.

"Revan was the more brilliant of the pair. He fought a subtler, yet effective war than Malak ever could. His death saddens me." The Sith scrutinized her eyes for any signs of evasiveness, any sign that might indicate an untruth.

"Revan is not dead."

The Sith's eyes glinted. "Really! This is most comforting news,"

"Who hunted down my parents?"

"The Jedi. And certain bounty hunters working for the Sith." And on seeing her surprised expression, "Yes, of course the Sith found out. And they hired bounty hunters who were noted for their patience, effectivity...and most importantly, discretion. How did they get to know? That's another story for another time. Tell me about the war...about Dxun."

She turned her head away. It was too soon, even now, to speak of the horrors she partook in on that forsaken planet. The Sith, apparently, had realized this. The asking of blunt questions was too narrow-minded of an approach to study the exile. Pressed for time, he had blundered into this situation without much forethought. Still, he knew, there was other information that could be gained.

"Who informed you of this assault on the Temple? Don't pretend, I can see right through you. Remember that well!"

Her gut tightened and her hands went cold. And then, a new feeling tickled her senses, and following her instinct, she looked ahead of her and behind the Sith, and saw him.

"Don't do it, Elori." spoke James, his lightsaber ignited.

The Sith turned to this added danger and frowned. His strength had dwindled, and should this man choose to attack now, he knew he could not put up much of a fight.

_Call off your lapdog, General, and I will tell you what you want to know_, said the Sith in her mind.

"Get out of here, James!" she yelled, her eyes fixated on the Sith. "This doesn't concern you!"

"It concerns the safety of the Order, Elori. And unlike you, I am still part of whatever's left of it." said James.

"Spoken like a true Jedi, haven't you James? Turn on your friends – who would have given their lives for you – for the sake of a pat on the back! _Well done, James, now that you've eliminated your comrades, we'd like for you to recruit more Jedi...you now have our blessings, go tear more children away from their families! Kill the parents if you have to, and when they grow up, tell 'em that the love of a family is pittance compared to the worth of the Jedi!_" screamed Mataki.

"I don't know what lies he has filled your head with Elori," argued James, "...but you have to step back and see what he's doing, he's manipulating you!"

"HE HAS TOLD ME THE TRUTH!" she shouted. "The bloody truth! And about the Jedi, and their real agenda – which is survival at any cost! Just like the Sith, James...between the two of you, everyone dies in the crossfire!"

"Look, Elori...it's almost over. It doesn't have to be this way. The Sith are losing their hold on Coruscant. The Republic's found a way to breach their shields...it's almost over, and we're winning." pacified James.

"And that's all that matters, isn't it." she said flatly.

He was desperate for an answer now. The introduction of this new variable in their delicate little equation had the potential to tip the scales, and dangerously so. "Tell me who informed you that the Temple was under attack, Elori! Was it one of us who turned traitor?" he shouted.

"_No!_" cried James.

Mataki glanced at James and threw him a look of utter disdain. In him, she saw the faces of the Council. Everyone who exiled her. And in him, she saw the face of Master Renata, the woman she would never meet, and who had indirectly led to her own existence. "I _will_ tell you, Sith. I – "

The Sith's eyes widened expectantly and then immediately lost its luster. A bland dullness overtook them, and what was once bright green seemed to be fading into a dark nothingness. Mataki screamed as she saw the lightsaber withdrawn from where it had pierced the man's chest. She scrambled over to him, and fell to her knees, holding the dying man's head up.

"Tell me," she pleaded. "Tell me anything...give me anything, Sith..." in her anguish, she felt tears roll down the sides of her cheeks and onto the man's chest.

"My name...is Pietro," he wheezed. "Others...there are others, still alive..."

"Where?"

"...I haven't finished..."

She bit her lip, forcing herself not to talk, to allow herself to listen to his quiet words.

"...haven't finished training my son,"

"Is he one of them? Is he one of those Jedi?"

"Yes...and no...Senator Sonum..."

He took in a huge breath, tightening his muscles before allowing himself rest.

She remained bent over the dead man, for how long she did not know. Finally a hand touched her shoulder.

James stood behind her, his face drawn and saddened. And when he spoke, his voice was drenched in guilt. "I...failed." he said. "I didn't know – I didn't know what he was saying, and...Atris, I couldn't,"

She rose up slowly and turned to him, no longer angry, yet not friendly either. "Of course you couldn't. The Jedi made you that way, James. They brainwash you so you swear loyalty. And when reality confronts you, you feel as if you're faced with two truths. One is painful and harsh. The other – familiar and comfortable. And easier. It's no surprise you chose what you did."

He closed his eyes in pain. "I am sorry. So sorry."

She stared through him, her eyes dull. "So you are."


	22. Chapter 22

**ABOVE THE SKIES OF CORUSCANT...**

Yustan peered around the opening to the Sith hangar. She gave a soft gasp, pulled her head back around the corner and grabbed Atton's arm.

"What!" he jumped, already on edge.

"Our ship's not there," she moaned.

"What do you mean our ship's _not there_!?"

"I mean it's not there!" she said, doing all she could to keep from yelling.

He peeked into the hangar, just as Yustan had done seconds before and then muttered obscenities underneath his breath. "Maybe we can...we can...uh...find another ship,"

"This damned place is crawling with Sith looking for us! We can't be wandering about!"

"You got any better ideas? These guys know we're here! It's only a matter of time before reinforcements come swarming through!"

Yustan wasn't listening to him anymore. Her mind was chugging away, working on some plan to desert what was quickly becoming hell. As she continued to think, something nagged at a corner of her mind. If the Sith had been able to identify the ship they came in, and which was, obviously, their getaway vehicle, why would they have removed it? If she was trying to set up a trap for some escapees, she would leave the ship as is, and have a large amount of troops hidden away as an ambush. So, she thought, with some degree of consolation, perhaps they weren't aware that Atton and she had gotten this far. They could use this to their advantage.

She turned to him and spoke calmly in order to placate the excited Atton. "They _don't_ know we're here. Not yet. But you were right about one thing, we've simply got to find ourselves another ship. Once the Republic find out their shields are down…"

"...it's bye-bye birdie," finished Atton softly and with realization.

"I need you to think clearly, Atton. C'mon, you're great in tense situations."

He shook his head. "Not when I face reality, I'm not. And there's something very real about being captured by the Sith. I wonder what it could be...?" he turned to her in sarcasm, "Oh, _that's right_! The fact that we've already been captured before!"

She ignored him. "You knew the layout of the ventilation ducts. How many hangars does this boat have?"

"I haven't a clue."

She pounded her fist against his shoulder. "_Think_, Atton! We need to get to another ship!"

He pushed her hand away and rubbed his shoulder. "We could use the pods,"

"Escape pods? _Are you mad?!_ Even _I_ know they'll be under heavy guard!"

"No, no," he protested, dodging her fist again, "The pods. They're one-man ships, usually with little or no artillery power. Sometimes they use 'em for transport from one vessel to another. They're not meant for long-range use."

Yustan was nodding quickly now. "Okay. Okay. Would there be one in this hangar?"

"Possibly. There was one the last time I was on a crate like this."

"Good. Great." She shoved him into the open space of the hangar. "Start looking," she ordered, "I got your back."

* * *

"You're stepping on my foot." said Atton, his face bland.

"Sorry," apologized Yustan. "You got the engines fired up?"

Atton grunted in reply.

The pair were sitting in a pathetically small vehicle, with only one seat. Yustan had fervently insisted that she would not be the one to sit on someone's lap like some lewd Twi'lek dancing girl, as she put it, and had ordered Atton to do so instead. Under any other circumstance he would have argued till he turned blue in the face, but their situation was tight, despite the pun, and he did as he was told. He made a mental note to bring up some obvious problems Yustan had with male authority, if they made it out in one piece.

Yustan shifted into a more comfortable position, causing Atton to knock his head on the domed plastiglass of the tiny cockpit.

They felt the small craft vibrate, and in the next few moments, it lifted off the ground.

"Get your arm out of the way." said Atton.

"I'll be happy to do so, Atton," replied Yustan with false sincerity before her voice turned angry, "...if you'll only just give me a vibroblade to hack it off so I can lay it at your feet!"

He clenched his jaw, and moved the ship forward instead of replying. The small, insignificant vessel made its way into space, away from the large Sith vessel, but not completely away from danger.

* * *

The craft moved silently through the skies above Coruscant, going unnoticed by friend or foe. The Republic had caught on quickly that shields had been taken down in the Sith fleet and were intensifying their assaults. Yustan's and Atton's main concern was to avoid being caught in the crossfire. Given their crowded circumstance, the pair had done an admirable job in navigating themselves through space. There came one near-miss moment when a laser blast from a Republic turret shot past them. To avoid what would surely would have been death, Atton tilted the craft sharply, causing it to angle itself violently and what was worse – fall into a repetitive sequence of rotational momentum. For several stomach-turning seconds, the pair saw their world flip upside down, and right itself again in a tumultuous circle.

Only once the craft had righted itself and was on a proper trajectory again, could they breathe sighs of relief. Yustan immediately took this brief hiatus of peace to radio a Republic ship to announce their arrival. Having done so, they made their way towards its tractor beams, and left the rest of their journey into the hands of someone else.

* * *

**ABOARD THE REPUBLIC VESSEL, THE SOJOURNER…**

As soon their ship had docked safely into the Republic hangar, Atton pushed the lid of the cockpit open and leapt out. Yustan followed, and gave him a sharp glare. It was not solely the close confines of the cockpit that led to her annoyance, but the fact that he was in such a hurry to get away from her...or at least, that was the way she saw it.

"What?" he asked. "We're okay, aren't we? What're you looking at me like that for?"

She said nothing.

A group of Republic soldiers came running towards them, many with grins on their faces.

"You guys did one hell of a job!" shouted one young fellow as he shook Atton's hand and in his joy, pulled the older man into a fierce hug. "You should really see it! We're cutting through their line of defense like a knife through butter!"

Another Republic soldier grasped Yustan's hand and shook it. Yustan however, was less enthusiastic, allowing for her hand to be shaken limply.

"Are you alright, Master Jedi?" he asked, concerned.

Yustan recovered herself quickly, and gave a wan smile. "I'm fine, soldier. Just a little tired, that's all."

"And you should be!" he said, "...Follow us, we'll show you to your quarters. You guys deserve months of R and R. And what's even better, when you wake up, there will be ceremonies held in your honour."

* * *

Yustan sat on the edge of her bed, playing with her hands. For the past few days she wished for nothing but safety and a nice, warm bed to lie in. And now that it was hers for the taking, she couldn't bring herself to take solace in it. She rose and strolled around the room, superficially studying this and that. Yustan bit her lip in slight anxiety, wondering what new predicament had come over her. Both she and Atton had barely escaped with their lives. And what was simultaneously unsettling and reassuring was that this was a common occurrence. Especially in the past few days. Most of that danger was now behind her, and now should be the time for recovery.

But her mind would not slow its frenetic pace, and her body felt the need to maintain movement simply to keep up with it. She found herself thinking of the Jedi, and the time she had spent...and now, would never spend, with them. Master Vandar, Master Kavar...they would suggest that she meditate, center herself to dispel this frenzy of thought. On the other hand, Master Vash would tell her to follow her thoughts to wherever they led her. Allow them to lead her at whatever pace they chose, never resist, because sometimes nature just had to take its own course. Where were they now, she wondered? Was anyone in the Jedi Temple still alive?

She closed her eyes and resumed her position at the edge of the bed.

What would become of the Jedi Order if few, or none of the Masters had survived this assault? The Jedi was not the Republic. It could not resort to common methods of recruitment – that sort of process was, well, almost crude if the Jedi were to undertake it. Would new members of the Council be chosen? And how would such selection take place?

These were far too simplistic questions for a far too complicated situation. And perhaps, she thought, she was going beyond herself. All that lay in the future, not in the present. So many things would have to be taken care of beforehand. Too many to keep track of at the moment.

And the recent developments with Atton – excited her, yes – but also seemed misplaced, no matter which angle she chose to view it from. It was a culmination of such thoughts that gave fuel to her frustrations, and try as she might to find a way to vent, she could not.

A knock sounded on her door.

"Yes?" she asked, and found her voice to be edgy and tired.

"It's Atton," came the reply from the other side. "Can I come in?"

She got up and let him in. As he stepped into the room, the door hissed shut behind him. He looked about her room and noticed the still-made bed. He raised his eyebrows and gave her a meaningful look.

"Looks like you didn't get much shut-eye either," she responded, studying the black circles under his eyes, "so don't you point your finger at me."

"I feel like I've been drinking Tarisian Ale for a week." said Atton as he rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. He walked to a small table, and flopped into a chair beside it.

Yustan watched his movements with a degree of impatience. "You come here for a reason?"

Atton glanced at her, as if in doubt. "I just uh...came to see how you were doing."

"_I'm fine_."

His muscles, which had only seconds before begun to relax, tensed up again. "Is something wrong? Because you act like something's wrong." He swallowed nervously, and wondered where this anxiety stemmed from.

"Nothing's wrong Atton, I'm fine." she repeated, even more stiffly the second time.

He got out of his seat and looked her in the eyes, frowning. He could tell that she was struggling to meet his gaze, in spite of his obvious challenge. He knew this meant that she was attempting to conceal something. When she broke the stare and looked away, he was certain of it.

Yustan inhaled deeply and turned aside. She moved towards the table and began pouring herself a fresh glass of water.

Perhaps she was aware of it too, he wondered.

"One of us has to say something," muttered Atton.

"What's there to say?" said Yustan quietly.

"Look, the ride back couldn't have been _that_ bad..."

She turned around suddenly, her face in anguish. "Atton, this..._us_...I don't think it will work. Back then, remember when we were on the ship? I wasn't in the right frame of mind to make sound judgements. And neither were you. We were just two people, with a situation thrust upon them. It was natural that we came to depend on each other. And it was _natural_ that this dependence led to some kind of...attraction."

"Do continue." said Atton, his face unreadable.

"But now that I'm here, I feel like I've hit a barrier – like I'm back in touch with reality. I haven't –"

Atton closed his eyes and held his hand up, refusing to hear any more. "I get it. You can't trust your judgement if you're in a crazed state of mind. It took that kind of stress for you to care, huh? Shoulda seen this one coming," he winced, as if in pain. "You'd think that I would have seen it coming. And you know what, Yustan? I deserve it. Every cut and bruise."

He stood there for several moments, immersed in silence. After all that had happened to them, after everything improbable that they had experienced together, the most unbelievable was the indication that she cared for him. Despite the multitude of reasons she could have for not doing so, he had grasped tightly onto that hope, and willed what seemed a lie to become a truth. It was as if he had touched a part of himself he had not known for ages, and it seemed good, and right. Something that was not inherently Atton Rand, but could be made to be. Or so he thought.

Instinctively, his shields came up. This was the way of the world. Traitorous, cold and ugly. It would try to best you only if you would allow it. And he had made himself vulnerable, playing right into its hands. _What a fool you are_, he thought! But no more. _I had to be dragged up higher to hit the ground harder. Words are words, and love is love – not meant for the likes of me_.

Atton turned around and made his way towards the door. Something tugged hard at him, keeping him rooted in place – perhaps it was the same part of him that caused such delusions. It pulled at Atton, begging him for one more sliver of hope. After that, thought Atton, he would kill it. One more chance at wishful thinking and he would silence it.

He paused before opening the door, and keeping his back to Yustan, he spoke. "Tell me one thing though. All those things you said, before we boarded the ship, when we were back at the base...were they the words of an...unsound mind?"

She remained eerily still, almost statuesque, and it was obvious that some heavy sadness had came upon her. Words tangled with emotions in her mind, inducing contests of logic and feelings until she felt as if she would burst. She let out a series of deep breaths, willing herself to regain the serenity that she felt she had lost.

"Please don't go." She found herself saying.

"Well, you'd better give me a damned good reason not to." he replied, angry now.

"Give me a chance to explain. Everything I said before – were the remarks of having been under considerable duress. What I feel – what I really _do_ feel – has nothing to do with who you are. It's circumstance that has brought all this about. Atton, I really do care about you. Isn't it obvious?"

Atton turned to face her and let out a distorted laugh. "_Care?_ Is this what you Jedi call it?"

Despite his understandable pain, she continued. "Atton, you...you have become very dear to me. I've come to depend on you, and I think – perhaps that this dependency has been misconstrued. And I think that you feel the same for me. We're both to blame – for misunderstanding ourselves."

"You can stop right there, sister!" he yelled. "I don't have to stand here and listen to your crap. _Don't_ patronize me, _don't_ humour me, and _don't_ give me the benefit of contrived explanation." He started to open the door, only to have it shut again.

He faced Yustan with a scowl, knowing that it had been her doing. He glowered at her silently.

"Look inside of yourself, Atton! Can you see the pair of us ever becoming lovers?"

"I thought I did!"

"It was my mistake for encouraging it, but I was wrong! _I was wrong!_"

He strode purposefully, almost threateningly, towards her. Yustan did not flinch, feeling that whatever he decided to say or do to her, she deserved.

"Just...tell...me...why." he said in a low, guttural voice.

She whispered with her eyes shut. "Ben,"

Atton staggered back, and hung his head.

"If I ask for your love, whether you realize it or not, you will be spending your entire lifetime trying to make amends for what you have done. And that's not what I want. And you'll end up hating me for having this hold on you – and that, I cannot allow. I have met very few people in this galaxy who I have come to care so deeply for, who have been the truest of friends. One of them has been taken from me, and the other...the other will be taken from me slowly, day by day." She moved closer to him, and lifted his gaze to meet her her own. "There are some deeds that cannot be undone, no matter how hard we try. But that is not to say that you will never be forgiven. I _have_ forgiven you, Atton. Just not in the way you want me to." She gently stroked the side of his face, and for some reason, he winced at the touch. "I will always – whether you now hate me or not – consider you as the dearest of friends. I do love you. But not in the way you would have me love you. And if you search yourself, you'll find that you don't love me either."

"Who are you to tell me how I feel?" he asked softly, and with obvious pain.

"Someone who cares about you."

"You almost sound convincing."

Yustan persisted. "Please listen to me, Atton. You've put up this wall around yourself, keeping out everyone else – and you've been doing it for most of your life. You want to inflict as much pain as you can on them – because of what had been done to you. You – "

"_Shut up_, Yustan."

" – I was one of the few who managed to break through! Of course your feelings were a natural response!"

"_Just shut up!_" He shoved her roughly, and watched her stumble backwards without a cry. He stabbed his finger emphatically towards her, his voice trembling. "I don't want your pity. I never did." He took a deep breath to control himself. "I'm going to walk out of here – out of your life – and give you just what you want. Don't even think of trying to stop me."

"Atton –"

"_Don't._" He turned on his heels and left.

* * *

**ST. ELEANOR'S HOSPITAL OF THE REPUBLIC, CORUSCANT.**

**THREE DAYS LATER**

Elori Mataki's reunion with Yustan was bittersweet. She was filled with relief at finding her friend safe, but was anxious as to the events that had led to Atton's sudden departure. From Yustan, she had discovered that the pair had made it safely back to the Republic's base after having successfully destroyed the shield generators. But Yustan's description of accounts after that were deliberately vague, and Mataki had half-heartedly decided not to pursue the matter. On her own, however, Mataki had made inquiries amongst the Republic soldiers who had been on board the Sojourner with Yustan and Atton. As she had expected, not many knew why Atton had left, although a few did mention something about hearing raised voices between the pair. She returned, reluctantly, back to her friend, gently pressing her for more details. Yustan had then begun to cry silently, stubbornly refusing to shed any light on the matter. As far as she was concerned, Yustan had said, she had made a grievious mistake against someone who had come to be a very dear friend, and that was all she would say on the subject.

Despite an obvious victory against the Sith, it was far from complete, and did not bring as much relief to herself or her companions, as she had thought it would. For one thing, it was obvious that something painful had occurred between two people she had come to know and to care for, one of whom was now missing. Secondly, the leviathan task of undoing a lot of what the Sith had destroyed, loomed above them all. And what was worse, she had more time than ever before to contemplate all of what had taken place and what now lay before her.

During those days, Mataki had kept her distance from the Jedi Temple, allowing for the few surviving Jedi to take on the responsibilities of recovery and rebuilding. Her anger at them had not yet dissipated and she would have enjoyed more reasons to cast them further into her bad graces, but they had been very respectful, even requesting her participation in the reconstruction process. But such niceties could not outweigh the grievances they had knowingly or unknowingly caused. She avoided contact with many, especially James, dividing most of her time between the Republic's own rebuilding efforts and her ailing brother.

Mataki supposed for that, at least, she owed James something. He had carried her brother to safety, and in short, had saved his life. She did not know the details of this rescue nor did she care to know. All that mattered was that Javin, though bed-ridden for a short while, was in one piece and almost his own self again.

"Oh, I almost forgot," spoke Javin, his mouth sticky with toffee, "You want some?" He held out a large box of assorted sweets, in which only three remained.

Mataki stared at the box and chose one. On closer inspection, she had noticed that a small bite had been taken out of it. "Hey!" she cried.

"Uh...sorry, you better put that one back. You won't like it anyway. It's got bitternut in it."

She threw it back in the box, shot him a look of disgust and then asked him curiously, "How do you know I hate bitternut?"

He gave her a knowing smile, and she let out a laugh.

"Don't feel upset though. It's not like I didn't save you any. There are four more boxes waiting to be opened. You can have 'em all." he said. "I think I've had enough chocolate and nuts and caramel and jelly and creamed puffs to last me a lifetime."

"You make it sound like work," she grinned.

"Oh it is." explained Javin, trying to appear serious.

This time she didn't laugh. From his place on the hospital bed, he touched her arm lightly. "What's up?" he asked.

Javin studied her, watching the emotions that played on her face before she spoke. He knew what words were going to emerge from her mouth, and he knew what had caused them.

After he had passed out at the Temple, he had dreamed. They were vivid dreams, bordering on nightmares, of people in pain. Not physical pain, but emotional. And such emotions were so powerful, so strong that it tore at his heart. In these dreams, he followed the trails of pain and found that those who cried and screamed were mourning not for themselves but for loved ones lost. And then – as if something was making his vision sharper – he saw them holding the bodies of the dead, clinging to them, stroking them...

The next few images he recalled were more frightening, and it was obvious that the men and women in his dreams were afraid as well. They silenced their wailing and immediately held up the bodies of their dead upwards to the sky. The bodies morphed into jewels that sparkled prettily in the sunlight. Despite the obvious beauty, the fear remained. A person walked through the crowds, pausing every now and then to accept the jeweled offerings. In his dreams, Javin had struggled to discern the person's face – wondering who these people were paying obeisance to. Then the person had turned, revealing darkness enveloped in a light so terrible that would give cause for anyone to turn away. But he hadn't. Because the face was that of his sister.

He had cried out to her in his dream, but she either didn't see or hear him, and continued walking through the crowds, collecting each person's offering. In the distance, he saw a surging wave – not of water – but of people. It grew large, darkening the sky quickly. It was then, finally, that Elori had turned. The terrible light that shone around her face was soon extinguished, and her mouth had opened, letting out no sound.

After that all he had seen was blackness.

Perhaps Elori had seen the change of expressions that crossed her brother's face, because she stopped herself from saying what she was about to say. Did he know, then, what had followed after he had been knocked out? Did he know about her conversation with the Sith?

"I think," said Javin quietly, "...that it had to happen."

Mataki looked at her brother, bewildered.

"It had to happen for you to realize what had become of you."

She paused, thinking. Her mind quickened its pace to play catch-up. He didn't know, then, about their history. He had no idea about their parents, about the Order, and about the clones. "What had to happen to me?" she asked cautiously.

"Your...transition. All those lives you took."

She winced, and he paused solemnly before continuing. "The war...the people you killed –"

" – _slaughtered_," corrected Mataki.

"It adds up. You're as much aware of this as I. And as it empowered you, it also drained you. But you didn't know the price you paid until...until what _happened_, happened."

He was referring to what she had done to him, realized Mataki.

"But you chose it, initially, to save lives. And if you had enough foresight to see what would happen to you in the process, you'd be, well – pardon my bluntness, definitely not where you are now."

"And where am I now?" she asked.

"You're asking for forgiveness. But what you don't realize is that there was never anything to forgive. What remains is that you need to forgive yourself. It won't happen overnight, and you know it. Whatever hole you're trying to fill Elori, I'm not capable of filling. It's you. You have to do it. Look, I'm not going to pretend, alright? Something obviously happened. You...something about you has changed...and I can't quite tell what it is. If something was taken away from you, your dignity, your knowledge of something, you yourself have let someone have it. I can't replace it. I can, and I will, help you look for it, but I cannot replace it. Do you understand?"

He took her hand and held it in his own gently. He shook his head, and pressed on. "You have to really understand, Elori. If you want to be whole again, you have to make room for some help. You're never going to be who you were, and that's what you're struggling to achieve. You'll never be her. _Never_."

"Never?" repeated Mataki in a childlike voice.

"No. Not ever. I...saw something. Dreams, visions, whatever you'd like to call it. In them, your past follows you, with a single purpose – to consume you. I had no idea of what you had felt during the war, and even in those dreams – it was only an inkling of the emotions you had experienced. I'll never know, even now. But maybe there's a way to come to terms with it. And maybe that means change. You're not the only one who needs it. I do, too." He smoothened the bed sheet, as if considering something, before continuing. "I'm not the same person I was on Endor."

Mataki sat down once more and bowed her head. "Oh Javin, I'm learning so much, about this world and myself. I thought I knew so much, I thought I had learned everything there is to know about the ugliness of this world. I don't know _anything_."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I feel so lost, and all that time, I misled you about who I was. And now you know me as I am, and I've led you astray –"

He held his hand up. "_Wait_, you haven't led me astray. It isn't you. No one has ever forced me to do something against my will, and I'll be damned if I let my older sister boss me around." He gave her a sly grin before continuing. "I'm beginning to see something bigger and grander than I ever would have if I stayed on Endor. What if everything's that has happened happened for a reason? What if I was meant to come to Coruscant? What if Yustan and Atton were meant to be captured to lead us here? What if...what if I was meant to become a Jedi?"

She took in a sharp breath. She certainly didn't see this coming. Well, not so soon, anyway. "You can't mean –"

"I do mean it. I've heard about the Jedi Order, from Kepp, and from you...and I know about its ugly side. But it has so many beautiful things about it –"

"Do not become enamoured of the image they try to project, Javin, _do not_."

"I am aware of some of the things they do, Elori. I despise the fact that they tear children away from their parents and teach them not to love. I know it's wrong – you know I do! But they are capable of so much good as well. And if I can be part of that, part of helping to restore what they once were...then, I want to do it."

"You want to become a Jedi." she repeated, helping her take in what she had just heard.

He nodded slowly.

She leaned back in her chair and let out a large sigh. This was what she had feared all along. It was an unacknowledged fear, so to speak, going deliberately unnoticed with the hope that it would never manifest itself. But now it had, and given her confrontation with Pietro...and everything he had revealed to her, she had every reason to persuade him to choose another life. And she wanted to do so. She wanted to crimp his plans, destroy every illusion he held about the Order, tell him that there was no hope worth having in such a decaying group. She wanted to shout it out – tell him that they would twist his ideals, everything pure that he held now – and use it as fuel to reach their own selfish goals. And then, when they had achieved it, he would be nothing but a burnt-out heap. And he would be discarded, useless to them.

But she couldn't.

As much hate as she had for the Order now, she couldn't bring herself to dissuade him.

_Why_, she asked herself?

_Because the evidence to the contrary isn't entirely dissuasive_. _Like it or not, sweetheart, all the Jedi are not the monsters you would have them be. And the ones whose necks you would like to wring should you have the chance, Renata...Geyaro...and those who indirectly orchestrated yours and Javin's existence, are just like you_.

_What? They are nothing like me!_

_Said the pot to kettle, lovey, said the pot to the kettle. Didn't they start out with good intentions? Didn't **you** start out with good intentions?_

_That was different. I realize what I have become. I am contrite, and not a day goes by when I don't think about the lives I have taken and the mistakes that I've made._

_Who's to say that they were not sorry either? Who's to say they didn't suffer afterwards for their actions? Who is being unfair now?_

_I cannot let him become one of them_.

_The Council is gone. The numbers that remain are few. Not to sound too callous, but this looks like an opportune moment to start afresh, to start building the Order with people like your brother. To make the Jedi into something that reflects the better side of our nature. What do you say_?

"Elori, please say something." spoke Javin.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, as if in disbelief of what she was going to say. "I...I would say that if that's what you want, then you should do what you feel is right."

"I need more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me...tell me that you approve of my decision."

She looked at him, shocked. "You're asking for my _blessing_?"

He shifted his position, as if uncomfortable. "Yeah." he muttered.

"You have it."

He leaned back into his pillow, and shook his head in disbelief. "A month ago, if you told me that I would want to join the Jedi Order, I would have knocked you over the head. Hey...who do you think will train me?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." deadpanned Mataki. She wondered silently to herself how he could go from possessing so much wisdom and insight to being so juvenile.

Javin grinned back at her. "Hey, you wanna start practicing some Force levitations? Summon that box of sweets to this bed? Whaddaya say?"

"You're such an idiot." smiled Mataki.

"I love you too."

* * *

**THE POLAR REGION, TELOS**

They had begun their long trek to cross the valley at daybreak. But now, as each minute passed, the weather was becoming more hostile. The snow which had only just minutes ago dabbed lightly them now came down in hard and fast swirls – some of which had turned to ice, pricking their faces as they walked. Her companions had not questioned her decision to walk across the valley, nor had they made any complaints despite the worsening conditions...but the woman felt their discomfort, together with their determination to not be outmatched by the elements.

She held her hand up, bringing their small party to a halt.

"This will do." she said, and immediately, the women that followed her started removing items from their large packs and began to move about, organizing themselves. Within minutes, they had set up a temporary storm shelter. Two of the women had begun to prepare a small meal, whilst the others sat around their leader silently.

Their leader smiled gently at them. "I did not ask for you all to accompany me."

"It was our choice, Mistress. Just as it was to serve you. To serve the Jedi." responded the one closest to her.

Their leader nodded towards them, pleased. As she shifted into a more comfortable position, one of the other women spoke up nervously.

"Atris? It is obvious that something has recently occurred to set all these events in motion...and it is also obvious from your behaviour that it distresses you. It would be kind of you to share it with us,"

In the next instant, each woman shot a disapproving look at their comrade and sister; this was not the way of their relationship with Atris. She was one of the last remaining Jedi, and theirs to protect. Such protection was often not physical, but also included the shielding of their mistress from unnecessary emotional pressures. If the mistress thought it inappropriate to speak of something, she would not do so. Dredging up the matter was impertinent and rude.

Atris frowned, more in worry than disapproval, before speaking. "I suppose it is time, yes. You are all aware of Bastila's victory against Revan. But what you do not know...is that...Revan is not dead. He is very much alive," she paused, feeling the intense surprise from her companions. "It's true. And he will be used to bring Malak and his Sith fleet to justice."

An uncomfortable silence followed.

It was the bolder woman, the one who had brought the topic up before, who broke it.

"You use an unusual choice of words, Mistress. Is this deliberate? What do you mean by the idea that Revan will be _used_ to bring Malak down?"

Atris smiled at the younger woman's sharp perception. "Just as I said. The Jedi Council has decided to use Revan, as a tool, to walk the paths that Malak did. Except that this time, Revan will not be himself. His mind will be reprogrammed with a new identity, something that will serve as a leash to keep the Jedi Council's new pet firmly on the trail."

The woman's eyes fell from Atris' steady gaze.

Atris leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on the woman's shoulder. "If you feel that your trust in the Jedi has been misplaced, then I cannot blame you. And if you feel that you no longer want to be a party to what I am trying to build...you have the freedom of choice to walk away from it."

"But...your students...when they arrive, they will be different? Taught better virtues?"

Atris chuckled. "I hope so, yes."

"Then it is imperative that I stay." She looked away, considering something. "They say that the Force surrounds all things, binding them together. If everything is so deeply rooted in it, how can we stray? How can the future veer away from a set direction? How can the Jedi do this to one of their own?"

"Perhaps they do not realize the consequences of their actions. With forcing a destiny upon someone, writing a false past for them...they have created an uncertain and _dangerous_ future. If Revan recovers his true memories, therein lies a tremendous possibility of him turning on those who have done this to him. And this time, not only will he hate the Jedi, but he will have a good, _personal_, reason to. He will bring about more destruction than he had wrought before they had damaged him. That will be his retribution, and I shall grudgingly confess that it may be justifiable. And the Jedi, as a consequence, might lose faith in themselves. And it is when a man loses faith in himself that he is truly destroyed."

"But surely, the will of the Force will not let this come about?"

"If the Jedi have misused the Force as they have done, I don't see why it shouldn't."

"Shouldn't we do something before it is too late?" asked the woman, worry in her eyes.

"We are, child, we are. There are some among us who disapprove of such goings-on. And even should dark times come about, it is our duty to stand firm to battle them. We are here to rebuild the Order into what it should have been all along. That is our responsibility – and we must do all in our power to bring those like-minded to such ideals together, to reunite them. We will be there to catch the Republic when it falls."

"But what if the Council is successful? And Revan destroys Malak, eliminating the Sith altogether?"

At this, Atris grew annoyed. "Have you learned nothing through me? The Sith are a belief, they can never be eliminated in the way you speak of." She leaned back, and sighed, her tone softer now. "If Revan takes his place amongst the Jedi again, then he will have more battles to face, I fear."

"From what?"

"There are others – who follow the teachings of the Sith. Who have been lurking, waiting...for the right moment to reveal themselves."

"Will he have to face them?"

Atris shook her head. "No. But he will have to journey to put an end to where they stem from. And it is the journey that one walks alone that is the most dangerous."

"Mistress, do you know of this from experience?"

She laughed sadly to herself. "It is the exile who has walked that path, not I. But I was the fool who turned her away."

Her younger companion looked about her, only to face the consternation of her sisters. Some glared at her in bewilderment and the others in angry disapproval. She stared back at them defiantly, and turned to face Atris again. "But the exile is returning to meet with you. That could only mean forgiveness."

"You know much about combat, child, but nothing about human emotion." Atris scoffed to herself, and muttered underneath her breath. "Not that I claim to understand the exile, either." And then, louder. "But yes. She will come here soon, and we must treat her with every courtesy. There is much she and I have to discuss, and I trust that when she arrives, I will be mercifully free from your questions."

At that, she smiled at the woman, relieving her.

* * *

**THE POLAR REGION**

**TELOS**

**THREE WEEKS LATER**

The exile and her three companions trudged through the snow slowly, if not steadily. She looked behind her to see Javin pull his jacket close about him, as the snow blew around them like a raging Bantha. James approached the boy from behind and handed him a thermos. She watched silently, out of the corner of her eyes as her brother accepted the warm drink gratefully. A pool of anger stirred within her, urging Mataki to toss the Jedi from the next precipice they came across. But she stayed her emotion, and continued to walk.

It had not been her desire to have him come with them. Initially, she had intended to meet Atris by herself. But the persistent tug of obligation made her relent, and she had told both Javin and Yustan about her plans. Yustan had seemed relieved – relieved to know that one of the Council members had survived. It seemed that a portion of some burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and she appeared almost enthusiastic at this new turn of events. It was then that Mataki had suggested that she accompany her, and of course then, Javin saw this as an opportunity to invite himself along.

He had not voiced his desire to join the Jedi to anyone, except herself...and then later, to James. It was obvious that he saw in James a mentor, or even – though she cringed everytime she thought of it – an older brother. Granted, the man had saved his life. But to see them as such close friends upset her greatly. Not only did James know, but he was also partly responsible for erasing their history...he had taken a vital part of her life from her grasp only to protect an Order that was slowly decomposing anyway. There was many a time when she wanted to drag her brother to a corner and let him face the truth.

But she had been unable to do it. No matter how high her anger surged, the consequences of her actions surged higher. And facing Javin afterwards...that was something she was not yet prepared to do. So she had chosen to walk a mute course in that regard, looking for quick fixes to rid her of her anger.

Just like she was doing now.

Searching for a way to distract herself from both the cold and James, she slowed down her pace, allowing for Yustan to walk alongside her. Yustan, too, seemed grateful for the chance of a conversation and a distraction.

"You know where I was born, Elori?" spoke Yustan.

The exile shook her head.

"Sleheyron. Not a particularly sublime place to live, but there's one thing I can say about it. It was warm."

Mataki laughed. "Didn't think you were there long enough to notice, you know, before the Jedi grabbed you."

"That's an interesting choice of words...but yes, I was there till I was about three or four. Long enough to have built up a decent stock of memories about it."

"Feeling nostalgic?" asked Mataki as she brushed swirls of snow from her eyes.

"Frankly, yes. Very nostalgic." Yustan let out a sudden sneeze.

"You know what's funny?" began Mataki. "When the Jedi expelled me from the Order, I wanted to choose a life of isolation. When I left Coruscant that day, I wanted to walk down a path of demented self-discovery. I honestly didn't expect..."

"...all of us to tag along?" quipped Yustan. "Well kiddo, think of life as a bad restaurant. You'll never get what you ordered."

"Looks like it, doesn't it?" smiled Mataki. "But I'm not complaining. It wasn't after my expulsion that I walked alone. It was during the wars. I didn't realize it then, but I do now. But now... having the company, it's rather...nice."

Yustan let out a loud chuckle. "I never saw you as person who used the work 'nice' in a sentence!"

"Well, at least laud me for the lame attempt," smiled Mataki with her friend. "It's true though. About what I said. I do appreciate having you and Javin here. It's a pity Atton couldn't join the throng." She glanced sideways out of the corner of her eyes.

Instantly, Yustan's smile vanished.

"It's time we talk about it, don't you think?" urged Mataki.

"I thought I told you to let the matter be."

And then without warning and allowing for her words to escape her before she knew it, Mataki asked, "Did he love you?"

Yustan stopped walking and shut her eyes. "Will you give me some peace once and for all?"

"No, I can't. Because both you and Atton are people I have come to care for. And because he sacrificed himself to go after you. And now he's disappeared, Yustan, and no one's going after him. And yes, I'm worried for him. And whether you see it or not, so are you."

"He claimed that he loved me. And I thought I could feel the same way. But the truth was...I didn't. And I knew, I knew it so well despite it taking so long for it to sink in, that he didn't feel the same way. I don't think he realized it though. And the way I pushed him out, it was _crude_, _undignified_...I am _so_ sorry."

"It's not me you should apologize to." Mataki sighed and looked about her. James and Javin were catching up slowly. And then she turned back to Yustan. "But who am I to judge, anyway? You did what you thought was right at the time. And I suppose Atton was...well, being Atton."

"You think we should look for him?"

Mataki shook her head. "I've already tried. He's disappeared. And finding him a second time is going to prove exceptionally difficult. And anyway," she said resignedly, "...we have someone to meet, and a lot of ground to cover. Let's keep going."

* * *

Their reunion with Atris was awkward, at best. Javin and Yustan seemed particularly intrigued by the new compound Atris had taken residence in. And Javin seemed especially interested in the cloaked women who stood silently in sections of the compound. He mischieviously winked at one, attempting to get some sort of reaction out of her, only to have her give him a dark scowl and clutch her staff somewhat threateningly. Javin had stepped back and rejoined his sister.

Atris had embraced James lovingly, almost as a mother would her child, and despite all that he had gone through, a burden seemed to have lifted from his shoulders, and he smiled more often than not in her presence.

The handmaidens, as Atris referred to them, kept to themselves as the group greeted one another, and brought refreshments together with a meal for the tired party. Atris stated that there would be no talk of plans or discussions that night. Despite the worries of the galaxy, there was sleep and rest to be had, and no use would come of putting exhausted minds to work.

The four companions had their own quarters, pleasantly furnished. The beds were heated, ready to welcome an aching body. Yustan, Javin and James took solace in such comfort and greeted sleep with ease. Mataki however, lay in bed, her eyes staring at the pale ceiling. The bed was so much more comfortable than anything she had had in weeks, but it could not put her to sleep. Tired of her inability to do something so simple, she rose and left her room.

She strode silently around the hallway outside her room, which led to a set of polished steps. Smiling to herself, she ascended them, only to find herself in a large, circular room which was encased in some glass-like material. The view around her took her breath away, and she walked with trepidation towards the glass – afraid that if she made any sudden moves, the vision would fade, like a dream. The stars shone like crystal specks in the night sky, illuminated even brightly by Telos' large moon. The snow that covered the peaks glowed by its light, and everything seemed calm, and at peace. It was such a contrast from the blizzard that had stormed about them that afternoon.

Mataki was startled by a presence behind her.

"Telos atmosphere is still somewhat unstable. But it does have its beautiful moments." came Atris' voice. "This region, as you probably know, was beyond the reach of the Sith. They had no reason to destroy uninhabited areas like this."

"You like it here." commented Mataki.

"It is untamed."

"Like Dagobah," spoke Mataki softly.

"I would hardly compare these icecaps to Dagobah, Elori."

Mataki smiled as she shook her head. "You don't understand. Dagobah, like here, stands on its own. There lies nothing in this galaxy that we can compare it to. It's raw, and feral. Just like it is here. Tell me, have the Ithorians ever ventured out here? Have they even attempted to control the weather conditions on these peaks?"

"Of course not."

"The Ithorians can work wonders with nature. But even they, who obviously understand the elements better than any other species we know, do not dare to claim authority over this place."

Atris moved alongside the exile and chuckled softly. "Are you commenting on my inappropriate choice of location?"

Mataki turned to face her. "That would depend on what purpose this location will serve."

"I aim to construct a new Jedi Academy." replied Atris, matter-of-factly.

Mataki scoffed. And to her mild surprise, Atris did not take insult to her reaction. "If you want to hide the Jedi away from the rest of the world, then yes, you've chosen the ideal spot."

Atris looked away.

Noticing this, Mataki frowned. It appeared as if she may have misjudged the older woman. "...unless this seclusion is for a good reason..." she muttered, trying to work things out. "Is there something else to give reason to your fears?"

Atris sighed and placed her palm on the glass. "Malak will be defeated. Even as a Sith Lord, his rule will only be temperamental."

"You are afraid that Revan will reclaim his title...?" Mataki's eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps it will surprise you to hear this – coming from me, of all people, but it must be said. If Revan reigns as a Sith once more, he will bring stability to the galaxy. Perhaps the Republic will be crushed, or even destroyed completely – but there will be an order. He will hunt the Jedi relentlessly, but Revan...Revan does not lust after death."

"And if Revan does not become Sith...?"

"He will face greater foes to come."

"What kind of enemy?"

"There was once a Darth Traya, a long time ago – before your time. She was eliminated. But someone has taken her place, and in her wake, there follows something...elusive."

"Does she lead them?"

"I cannot say." And then, on seeing Mataki's face, she answered her unspoken question. "And no, I do not know. All I do know is that there have been rumours of Jedi disappearances. Initially, we had attributed this to be Revan's doing. But now that Revan is...well, within sight, we know he is not the cause."

"But these...people, or whatever they are, you're certain they're not Sith?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you speak of them with obvious dread...not with distaste, as you do with the Sith. I have not known you, Atris the Historian, to ever be afraid. To run to this place and hide. Simply put, that's not you." Mataki studied every emotion carefully, that played on the woman's face.

"These killers are Sith. I have narrowed it down to that much. But they don't fight like the Sith you and I are accustomed to," at this, she laughed bitterly. "What a sad world we live in, if we have become accustomed to fighting and killing...so much so that we know so many details about our enemies."

"You digress," said Mataki firmly.

"Indeed I do. I had wanted to tell the four of you this...but...now will have to do, since the time has come upon us both. This _woman_, she seeks something. I had initially assumed that she wanted to claim the mantle of Sith Lord for her own, but I couldn't have been more wrong. If that were the case, she would have dethroned our dear Malak, wouldn't she? No. She is biding her time. Waiting for something else. I suspected that she wanted to destroy the Council, perhaps, but when Coruscant was attacked, I found no trace of her influence. And from what you told me, of all the Sith _debauchery_, if we can call it that, in the Temple...she wasn't among them. Maybe then, I thought, she was after some piece of knowledge, of history. Maybe she was searching for it amongst the archives. But the people I sent to watch over such teachings reported nothing."

"_Who_ is she looking for, Atris?"

"Our Darth Traya was exiled, Elori. Once by the Jedi, and again by the Sith. But the Jedi were not the ones who stripped her of her connection to the Force."

Elori stared at Atris, her eyes hollow and her voice silent.

"And now you know."

Elori set her jaw and looked out towards the mountain peaks. They didn't look so peaceful anymore. "I have no time for this. If she is looking for me, so be it. But I will not waste time drawing her out. There are other things I must do."

"Do they take precedence over this?" asked Atris gently.

Mataki stepped forward, anger obvious in her voice. "I am going to find out more about my family, Atris. I owe it to myself, and to my brother." She scoffed at the woman's feigned surprise. "Oh don't pretend you don't know about Javin and I. You, of all people, should have seen the family resemblance. He's all I've got now. I've sacrificed enough for the Republic that will fall anyway. To be quite honest, I couldn't care less about it. I'm not your hero, and I'm damned if I'm the champion you imagine me to be. If you want to continue your quest against evil, I won't dissuade you. In fact, if I was in a better mood, I'd even applaud you. But I'm not going to get involved...I've learned my lesson, and I've learnt it well."

An awkward silence followed, but Atris was persistant.

"She will kill many to get to you."

"Then those deaths are on _her _conscience, not mine."

"Aren't you forgetting something? She has no conscience."

"Act in its stead, Atris. That's your duty. Leave me out of it. And if this is what you summoned me for, halfway across the galaxy – to request my help...you can forget it. You're the Jedi, you're the teacher. You bring the recruits, you train them, and then go catch those Sith." She shook her head in disgust, and laughed bitterly. "I came here, of my own accord, to offer you ideas...and maybe even help you build this place into what you want it to be. I didn't come here to be drawn into another battle. I...I think we're finished here." Mataki started to walk away towards the stairs.

"She is very resourceful, Elori. More so than myself, and you know it is not in me to boast. If she finds out about Javin –"

Elori spun around, her eyes blazing.

" – I will not be the one to tell her," said Atris hurriedly. "But I cannot guarantee his safety. If I could make him stay with me here, on Telos, then I would do so. But I fear that if anything, Javin is like you. And I cannot make him do my bidding."

Elori inhaled deeply and let the air out slowly. "No. I suppose you cannot."

* * *

She clipped her lightsaber to her belt, and walked with Atris hurriedly down towards the hangar.

"I've had my handmaidens prepare the ship for you. You'll find it to be to your liking." Atris glanced over at the younger woman worriedly. "Are you certain this is the best way? It will hurt them gravely, most of all your brother..."

"If I tell them, they'll want to come with me. Yustan's presence, I would welcome. But not the others."

"Then by all means, let me go find her. It makes me anxious – to set you out on your own like this."

Mataki placed a restraining hand on Atris' arm. "Don't. If this woman...if she is as cunning as you claim, then I could do without distractions."

Atris sighed. "And you will not welcome any of my handmaidens to go with you...?"

"They are not Force-sensitive. Perhaps they're top notch when it comes to their Echani training, but from what you've told me, I have a feeling this woman has something other than battle on her mind."

"This was not the way I would have you leave, exile." said Atris, as the pair approached the ship.

Mataki smiled, and made a small attempt at levity. "Huh. Tell you who I'd really love to come along, though. _Revan_. I could use his cunning at a time like this. How ironic."

Atris smiled in response. "Perhaps you underestimate your capabilities."

Mataki shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. But the hole in her heart grew painfully larger by the minute. If she didn't leave soon, she knew she couldn't bring herself to do so later. She turned away from Atris and studied the ship that lay patiently before her. It was a Devronian craft – of that much she could tell. Its hull and platings had rusted somewhat, and the visible dents were evidence that it had seen some rough times. She walked forward slowly and placed her hand on the metal. Despite its obvious bulk, something told her that there was more to it, a hidden grace, so to speak.

"The tech who worked on it guaranteed its quality and stability," called out Atris from behind her.

Mataki grinned. "But who can guarantee the quality and stability of your tech?" She turned to face the loading ramp, and gingerly placed one foot on it. And immediately, as if remembering something, she shouted back at Atris to get her attention. "Do me a favour, will you? Tell them...tell them I'm sorry. I hope to make it back so that they can give me a piece of their minds. And tell James that it's okay now. He has nothing to be sorry for. And if anyone were to train Javin, it would be him."

"What about Javin?" asked Atris. "What would you have me tell him?"

"Nothing." said Mataki sadly. "Anything that I would say, he knows it already."

With that, the exile ran up the loading ramp. Within minutes, the cruiser's engine thrummed loudly in Atris' ears, and the ship lifted itself gently off the ground. Within seconds, it flew out of the hangar, and into the night sky.

* * *

**THE POLAR REGION**

**TELOS**

**TWO YEARS LATER**

He stood in the very room she had been in that night, only a few years ago. Two years was enough for anyone to change, but if anything that remained the same, it was his feelings for his sister. They echoed as strongly within him as they did then, and he struggled – just as he had then – to force away the resentment he had felt towards her actions. If this menace had threatened her, then it had threatened them both. Who was she to choose his path?

"She was your sister," came the woman's voice. "And you know she did it out of love."

The young man turned around to face her.

Yustan Wes-Tar looked at Javin fondly. She searched his countenance for the boyish naivety she had seen two years ago, but for some reason, it eluded her. Gone was the boy, and what now stood before her was a man, whose youthful optimism had now been replaced with caution...and yes, some degree of pain. They had parted ways on the day that Mataki had abandoned them. Javin had voiced his desire to be trained as a Jedi, and it did not make sense for him to return to Coruscant with her. The Jedi Temple was then in the process of being rebuilt, and more logic lay in the idea of sending him with James to Dantooine. Yustan imagined that Javin would have chosen to return to Endor, and to some kind of normalcy. But it was apparent that the boy clung to the thought of becoming a Jedi as a way to reconnect with a part of his sister. And perhaps even, it would train him to be resourceful enough to track her down.

So they had said their goodbyes, and he journeyed to Dantooine as she did to Coruscant. She kept up with his progress, regularly, however, knowing that it was something Elori would want her to do. And should she return some day, Yustan could envision her telling her old friend of Javin's missions and adventures in the academy there. Truth be told told though, she felt slightly betrayed at Mataki's choice. If it were she in that position, she would have asked for whatever help she could gather. But Yustan knew that the exile, if anything, was indecipherable at times, this being one of those times. Whatever her reasons, she hoped that she could hear them from her, someday.

Until that day, however, she bided her time in Coruscant, helping to train younglings who had recently taken residence in the Jedi Temple. A year after Mataki had left, she received distressing news that the enclave on Dantooine had been destroyed. Immediately, she had arranged for a transport shuttle to take her there despite all the warnings to the contrary. On her way, she had received word from Master Vandar that most of the Padawans were not fatally wounded, those of which included Javin. And James, she had asked? He was safe as well. The same could not be said for Zhar or Dorak, however. Their conditions were critical.

She had reunited briefly with Javin then, and he had urged her to leave Coruscant, feeling that this fresh onslaught of the Sith would soon make its way into the core worlds. But several months later, Malak was brought down, and the factory that had given rise to his enormous fleet – this _thing_ called the Star Forge – had been destroyed.

The Republic finally had a real reason to celebrate, and the Jedi...the Jedi welcomed back a lost son into their fold. What Revan had wrought during the Jedi Civil War, he seemed to have undone by doing away with his former apprentice. It seemed like the Republic and the Jedi could both lean back, catch their breath.

Until Atris had sent a cryptic message her way, summoning her, James and Javin back to Telos.

There she had informed the three of them of the threat she had spoken about two years ago. After the emergence of Revan, she believed it to have dissipated. But Revan had soon left, to go who knew where, and this danger had resurfaced again. But their main question, and the sole purpose for them gathering there...was for an old friend. Had she heard any word of her, they had asked? Atris' silence gave them the disappointing news they did not want to hear. But, however, with bad news, came a glimmer of hope: an opportunity for them to walk in the path of their friend, and in doing so, maybe encounter her again.

"She may have done it out of love, but it was still not her choice to make...and she should have realized that." stated Javin, bringing Yustan back to the present.

"Well," sighed Yustan. "The past is past. What remains before is this chance for us to bring an end to all this killing."

"We stop the killing by returning the favour." Javin scoffed. "Such are our choices."

"Do you feel that what we are about to embark on is worthless?" she asked.

"Of course not. But whether we're successful, that's another matter. And whether we'll find her –"

"Do you believe she's...?" ventured Yustan, asking the question she dared not ask.

"No." said Javin resolutely. "If she was, I would like to believe I would know."

"It is decided then." Yustan said softly.

She moved towards Javin, and placed an arm around the boy, as they looked to the skies outside.

He did not pull away.


End file.
